


Chained to the Rhythm of Love

by mirvly



Series: Like A Love Song [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, M/M, Slow Burn, celebrity!blaine, fashion designer!Kurt, kinda slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirvly/pseuds/mirvly
Summary: Breakout artist Blaine Anderson is new to the life of a celebrity. With his popularity rising as a pop star in New York City, he longs for a connection with someone that goes beyond his life of luxury. When he meets Kurt Hummel, an up-and-coming name in the world of designer fashion, he knows he has to get Kurt to design an outfit for him for the red carpet. But it soon becomes clear that the two have a connection beyond business.





	1. Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first time posting a fic on AO3… A little nervous, but I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I don’t have a tumblr (yet) but if you’d like to leave kudos or a review it would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy.

 

**August  
** **NYC, New York**

_“Blaine, over here!”_

_“Blaine, show us a smile!”_

_“Congratulations on your three nominations tonight, Blaine!”_

Unable to watch any more, Blaine lifted the remote to mute the television. Beside him, Sam chuckled. “Had enough of yourself?” he asked, looking up from his phone.

Blaine shot him a look. Sam sat on the opposite end of the plush couch in Blaine’s apartment, scrolling through Twitter. Blaine had his feet tucked underneath him, a fuzzy blanket pulled up to his chin as he rewatched the red carpet show from last night. He could still smell the champagne in his hair.

“I look so tired,” Blaine commented, rubbing at the shadow that was creeping across his chin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t spend so many hours at the studio. You’re there more than you’re here these days.”

Blaine sighed, his eyes glazing over as he watched the red carpet slowly go by. Thankfully, the camera diverted from him, and began following Mercedes Jones. Blaine had the pleasure of meeting her last night, and she had been absolutely stunning. His only regret was forgetting who had designed her [elegant suit](http://www1.pictures.stylebistro.com/zp/ygaM2WnQ3hPl.jpghttp://www1.pictures.stylebistro.com/zp/ygaM2WnQ3hPl.jpg). She stood out among the other women in dresses, and her outfit had been the talk of the red carpet. 

“You know I’m trying to get out of this writer’s block. I just can’t think in this apartment,” Blaine replied. “Even last night, as soon as I got on that stage, I totally blanked.”

“You were _fine_. It was an average speech. At least you weren’t crying or slurring your words like some people,” Sam said. Turning on his best drunk voice, he added, “Wanna thank the ‘cademy –”

“I don’t want to be average, Sam!” Blaine groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. 

“Hey, wait, unmute for a sec. I wanna hear Mercedes Jones talk,” Sam said. Blaine obliged, knowing that Sam had been harboring a bit of a crush on Mercedes ever since she’d risen in the music scene. He made a mental note to reach out to her agent and see if he could score a collaboration on his next album.

_“––Wearing this evening?”_

_“This suit was made by my boo, Kurt Hummel. You may not know him now, but all those people at Versace and Gucci better watch out, because by this time next year, everyone’s gonna want an outfit from Kurt Hummel.”_

The interviewer went on to ask a few more questions, but Blaine was distracted by his own appearance in the background. Looking at all of the stunning outfits on the red carpet, he just looked… _boring_. When did a simple black tie suit become outdated and safe?

“She looks amazing,” Sam said, a dreamy tone in his voice. Now it was Blaine’s turn to snort. Sam’s eyes cut across to him. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just really seem to like her, is all.”

“Come on, Blaine, you’ve heard Mercedes sing! She’s like an angel. And I mean, come on, in that outfit?”

Blaine had to admit it was flattering on her, styled perfectly to her frame. “Maybe I ought to find out more about this Kurt Hummel. I could do with spicing up my outfits, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean? The paparazzi were drooling all over you last night.”

“Yeah, but I want to be memorable.”

“You won best new artist!”

Blaine could see that Sam was beginning to get frustrated. “I know, I know. I just… don’t want to be someone who shows up for a year, then disappears and is never heard of again. I don’t want to be a one-hit wonder.”

“You have two hits.” Blaine picked up a throw pillow and chucked it at Sam. It landed smack in his face. “Okay, okay! So go find this Kurt guy on Twitter or something. If he’s up and coming, you better make an appointment before everyone and his brother gets the same idea.”

 

* * *

 

**@BlaineAnderson tweeted:** Just rewatching the #MTVVideoMusicAwards and couldn’t get enough of @MsMercedesJones and her suit! I gotta get one of those… @KEHummel got a spare one lying around? 

**@MsMercedes Jones replied:** @BlaineAnderson  you know it boo! Just be careful, or @KEHummel is gonna get his hands on that gelmet of yours. He never shuts up about kidnapping your stylist...

 

* * *

 

After skimming through the remainder of the awards show, Blaine said goodbye to Sam, who left him alone to do a quick workout, shower, and climb into a pair of sweatpants. Blaine reclined in his bed with his phone. He liked taking the day off after something as exciting as an awards show, so he had no plans for the day. 

He had tweeted just before getting into the shower. Now, his Twitter mentions were a flurry of excited fans and news outlets. It was incredible how quickly people clung to even an inkling of a story. _New Friendship Between Mercedes Jones and Blaine Anderson Excites Fans_ , he read. One fan kept replying to both of them with _COLLAB PLZ_ over and over. He clicked Like on one of them – why not feed the flames, just a little bit?

He thumbed over his own tweet, and tapped the handle for Kurt Hummel. It opened to his profile, and Blaine was surprised to see the icon showed a face hidden in shadows, so that he couldn’t quite make out how Kurt looked. The banner of the page showed several clothing designs.

After a quick scroll, he concluded there was nothing of interest on Twitter. He moved to Instagram.

It only took a moment for him to find Kurt’s profile. This one had plenty of pictures, mostly of clothes, designs, and models wearing them. The most recent picture was of Mercedes on the red carpet. 

Blaine tapped a photo a bit further down. For a moment, he thought the man in the photo was a model – until he read the caption.

**kehummel** Who better to model one’s work than oneself?

So _this_ was Kurt Hummel. Blaine found his eyes glued to the photo. Kurt looked less like a designer and more like a model. As he scrolled through, there were more and more photos of Kurt in his own designs. Blaine had to admit, they were spectacular, if a little eclectic.

His phone began to buzz. The name UNIQUE ADAMS filled the screen. Blaine accepted the call and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, there.”

“Oh I _know_ you didn’t just let Mercedes Jones diss your hair on Twitter.”

“Relax, Unique, it’s all in good fun. But what do you think, should I really lighten up on the gel?" 

“Honey, I’ve been telling you for years that you need to release those curls. Leave it to Unique. Next time you go out, you’ll have the paparazzi drooling.”


	2. Enchanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the AMAs, and Kurt is Mercedes' date. A couple of months have passed since the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the fic title changed slightly from "Chained to the Rhythm" to "Chained to the Rhythm of Love". I thought it was a bit more apt... and a nice combo of Katy Perry's "Chained to the Rhythm" and "Rhythm of Love" by the Plain White T's.

****

 

**October  
** **LA, California**

Kurt’s hands shook in his lap as the car rounded yet another corner. Mercedes sat beside him, on her phone, wearing another one of his designs. Since August, when Mercedes has debuted one of his designs at the MTV Video Music Awards, he had been working tirelessly on her new dress, amongst other requests that had bombarded his inbox. The suit she’d worn had been a big hit.

And now he was about to face the red carpet, himself.

“Kurt, I can practically feel the car shaking.” Mercedes looked up from whatever social media site she had been perusing, and grabbed his hand. “Why are you so nervous?”

“It just feels like a lot has led up to this moment. The last time I was in the public eye was when we performed at Nationals, Mercedes.” He squeezed her hand.

“Everyone’s dying to hear you talk about your own clothes, Kurt. And see the hottie behind them.”

Kurt gazed out the window, watching the crowds speed by as they approached what Kurt could only describe as an unloading area. The car slowed; now they had to wait until their car reached the end of the line so they could step out and make their appearance.

“What if I say the wrong thing? Or accidentally spill my drink on Rihanna or something?”

“You stick with me, boo, and I’ll take care of you. You’re my arm candy, so don’t go off flirting with any hot bachelors, okay?”

If it wasn’t for Mercedes, Kurt was sure he wouldn’t have the courage to walk onto the red carpet. He was used to spending his life in the shadows; after hiding through high school and failing to get into NYADA, it was his internship at Vogue that had given him a foot in the door. Fashion became his life, and when Mercedes started climbing the charts, she made sure not to leave him behind. It was largely due to her success that he was allowed at a red carpet event like the American Music Awards. That, and the complementary tweet from none other than Blaine Anderson. Kurt’s heart fluttered every time he remembered getting that notification.

_(oh god he’s going to be here tonight)_

“Nearly there, Miss Jones,” called the driver.

Mercedes squeezed Kurt’s hand as the car came to a stop. “You ready for this?” she asked. The tone of her voice told Kurt that if he said no, the car would turn around and take him back to LAX.

Kurt took a deep breath. He fiddled with his cufflinks. Adjusted his tie.

“As I’ll ever be.”

The door swung open, and Mercedes stepped out first. The roar of the crowd met Kurt’s ears before he even stepped out from the back seat. Mercedes was beaming, waving at fans and paparazzi clustered by the entrance. Kurt blinked against the flashing lights.

_(how do people get used to this?)_

Her arm linked with his, they started their descent down the carpet.

Kurt tried his best to hold a smile, but he feared it didn’t meet his eyes. Squinting against the blinding flashes, he knew that there would hardly be any photos that flattered him. He made a mental note _not_ to check Twitter tomorrow. He let Mercedes lead, feeling uncomfortably out of his element. It only got more hectic the deeper they went.

“Mercedes! I swear I just saw Troye Sivan,” Kurt hissed into his friend’s ear.

Mercedes patted his hand. “Keep your eyes to yourself, cutie. Save it for the afterparty, okay?”

A reporter gestured to Mercedes, and Kurt found himself being dragged towards a camera. His breath hitched––was his hair in place? Was his tie crooked?

“Mercedes Jones, don’t you just look amazing tonight?” said the reporter. Kurt straightened up, some of his worries disappearing. This was his chance to get his name out there.

“I really owe this look to my close friend, Kurt Hummel. He designed my outfit at the VMAs, and he’s behind this masterpiece, too,” Mercedes said. She gave a little twirl, and the interviewer let out an _ooh_.

“And is this Mr. Kurt Hummel beside you, Ms Jones?”

Kurt leaned into the microphone. “In the flesh.”

“Well, your designs are certainly causing quite a stir since Mercedes appeared at the VMAs. I think we’ll be seeing more of Kurt Hummel on the red carpets soon. Now, Mercedes…” The interviewer went on to ask Mercedes a series of questions that Kurt blissfully toned out as he glanced around the room.

There was Ariana Grande, Sam Smith––Kurt would have to have a word with him, or else he’d die––and Charlie Puth, Nicki Minaj…

Kurt froze.

Blaine Anderson was across the room.

[He wore a black suit, but his jacket was adorned with flowers of a silvery lavender colour.](https://pmcfootwearnews.files.wordpress.com/2019/01/darren-criss-1.jpg?w=1024) If Kurt had to guess, it was Dior. Jealousy made his stomach twist. His hands itched to get his hands on Blaine Anderson’s wardrobe, to spice it up a little, more than _florals_ , for God’s sake…

“Thank you for you time, Mercedes, and you, Kurt! Enjoy the show!”

Kurt snapped back to the camera at the interviewer’s parting words. He smiled, and then it was his turn to drag Mercedes along. “Blaine Anderson is here,” he whispered.

“Did you think he wouldn’t be? He’s got at least two songs in the Top 50 right now… maybe three, I can’t remember. We should go say hello!” Mercedes said.

Kurt dug his heels into the carpet, panic rising in his throat. “B-But the after party, you said––”

“Not when he’s got that hunk of hotness with him. Who _is_ that?”

Kurt noticed, for the first time, that Blaine Anderson was accompanied by a tall, blond man who just reeked of chiseled abs even through his suit layers. He could certainly see the appeal, though he wouldn’t have thought the man was Mercedes’ type. A sinking realization made him pause. “What if he’s Blaine’s date?”

“Is your gaydar going off?”

Kurt considered the man. The bottle-blond Bieber cut certainly said something, and he had his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

_(please be straight please be straight)_

“We’ll just have to go and see,” said Mercedes. “Come on.”

Mercedes was a force of nature. In the twenty seconds it took to cross the room, Kurt tried every possible excuse to get her to turn around. Cameras, he could face. But Blaine Anderson? He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Too late. Mercedes parked herself directly in front of Blaine, not caring that he was in the middle of a conversation with – oh, God – was that Brendon Urie? Kurt might faint.

“If it isn’t Blaine Anderson!” Mercedes exclaimed, as if it was pure coincidence to run into him. Kurt watched as Blaine’s eyes lit up and his arms wrapped around Mercedes, hugging her tightly. “Blaine, I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Kurt.”

Kurt could have died on the spot when those hazel eyes turned on him. His heartbeat stuttered. His palms went clammy, his mouth dry. Blaine’s face spread into a grin. “This couldn’t be _The_ Kurt Hummel, could it?”

“The very same,” Mercedes said.

Before Kurt had time to register what had happened, Blaine enveloped him in a quick, tight hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Kurt. May I call you Kurt?”

“Y-Yes, of course. The pleasure’s all mine.” Kurt’s voice was about ninety percent breath, his eyes open wide like a startled deer. “You’re really Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine let out a shy laugh, and ducked his head. “I hope so, or else I definitely shouldn’t be allowed in here. In fact, I still think I might be dreaming.” He gestured to his companion, who, Kurt noticed, was ogling Mercedes with a look of pure awe. “Kurt, Mercedes, this is Sam Evans, my best friend and date tonight.”

If the phrase _best friend_ had given him any hope, it was dashed the moment Kurt heard the word _date_. He shook hands with Sam, and Sam did the same with Mercedes. Sam looked at Kurt with a goofy grin. “Hey, Kurt, maybe you could get this guy to loosen up on the gel a little bit,” he said, giving Blaine a nudge.

“Alright, alright. I was going to, honest––my stylist was on board and everything. But I chickened out!” Blaine threw up his hands, as if admitting surrender. “I’m just not sure the world can handle these curls.”

“As much as I wish I was an expert on hair, I think I’ll leave that to your stylist,” Kurt said, still not believing that this conversation was really happening.

Blaine’s eyes flickered up to Kurt’s own hair. “I don’t know, you’ve got some impressive height up there.”

“Blaine, give Kurt your number!” said Sam. Three sets of eyes cut across to him. Kurt held his breath. “That way he can design your next suit without any hassle.”

Kurt forced himself to keep breathing. If Sam was Blaine’s date in a romantic way, would he really be telling him to give out his number to another guy? Then he reminded himself that this was business, not pleasure. He certainly wouldn’t say no to having the phone number of Blaine Anderson, regardless of the circumstances.

“Good idea, Sam. I might get some crap from my PR manager for this, but heck, why not?” Blaine pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Kurt. Kurt took it, hands shaking, to see a blank contact page pulled up in the address book. He quickly punched in his name and number, only making a couple of typos he had to quickly fix, and then handed it back to Blaine with a nervous smile.

Blaine beamed, tapped a few things on the screen, and Kurt felt his own phone buzz in his pocket. Blaine tucked his phone away. “Well, we should keep making the rounds. I heard Pink is here, and honestly, I’ll die if I don’t get a picture with her. See you later, Mercedes. It was nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“Y-You too.” Kurt watched as Blaine took Sam’s arm and the two glided away. Mercedes squeezed his arm. “Did that really just happen?”

“Oh, Kurt, he is _into_ you,” Mercedes whispered.

“He was just being polite!”

“He complimented your hair! And asked for your number!”

“For _business_ , Mercedes. Please, let’s just go. I think I see Adam Levine.”

Later, in one of the opulent bathrooms of the venue, Kurt sat in a stall and pulled out his phone. From an unknown number, a message read: _Don’t look so nervous. You’re a natural. Courage_.

 

* * *

 

Blaine’s heart was pumping to the beat of whatever pop song was playing. The din of the after party made it impossible to make out the song. His head was abuzz with euphoria of winning not one, but _two_ awards. He was floating through a dream, a constant stream of drinks passing through his hands, every moment filled with a pat on the back or a _congratulations_ from some celebrity he idolized.

“Dude, this party is _awesome_!” Sam appeared in the crowd and gripped his shoulders tightly, jostling Blaine so that his champagne sloshed in its flute. “I just did a body roll for Nicki Minaj!”

A faint smile came across Blaine’s lips. Try as he might, it was hard to be excited for Sam in that moment. The grin on Sam’s face dropped away, to be replaced with a look of concern. “Hey, man, you okay?”

“Yeah, just… you know, a bit overwhelmed.”

Sam pulled him in for a hug, and Blaine gratefully returned it, burying his face in Sam’s chest. For just a moment, he felt relief to have such a good friend around him. Sam was doing well for himself as a model these days. It made the transition to being in the public eye easier, knowing that there was someone else who understood.

People tended to be curious about their relationship––Blaine had a habit of bringing Sam to events, to give him some exposure but also to feel secure with a friend by his side. But whenever anyone asked, he assured them that Sam was his best friend, nothing more.

They broke away from the hug, and as Blaine pulled back, he caught sight of Mercedes Jones again, sitting on a sofa by the far wall, chatting with who Blaine thought must have been a producer or something of the like. He grabbed Sam’s hand. “Hey, let’s go talk to Mercedes again,” he said, grinning when he saw the way Sam’s face lit up.

“Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to talk to her cute friend Kurt again?” Sam asked as they crossed the room.

Blaine let go of Sam’s hand and shot him a glare. “ _No_. Besides, I don’t even see him around.” He surveyed the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of that porcelain skin and kind blue eyes, but the results came up empty.

_(it’s okay you have his number, focus on being a good wingman, Anderson)_

Mercedes lit up when she saw them approaching. She said a polite goodbye to the producer and patted the sofa next to her. Blaine sat down, and Sam took the seat of the man she’d been talking to. “Congratulations on your award, Ms. Jones,” Blaine said.

“I should be the one  congratulating you,” Mercedes said, giving Blaine a playful push of the shoulder. “Look at Mr. Dapper over here with his two awards. You’re going to be big, Anderson, I just know it.”

“You two should sing together,” Sam cut in, not-so-subtly leaning closer to Mercedes. “I bet it’d be magic, you know, like when the Avengers team up and they’re stronger together. It would be like that but with music.”

Mercedes’ shoulders shook with laughter. “You’re probably right. What do you do, Sam?”

“I’m a model.”

“I should’ve known!” Mercedes glanced at Blaine. “Kurt and I were debating between model or just plain arm candy.”

“I can be both!” Sam said.

At Kurt’s name, Blaine’s heart pumped a little faster. “Is Kurt still here?” he asked, trying to sound polite instead of desperate for a positive answer.

But Mercedes was shaking her head. “This isn’t really his scene. But he enjoyed coming tonight, and meeting you, especially. He’s a big fan.”

Blaine chose to ignore Sam’s pointed wink and the way he mouthed _Fan of your dick_. Blaine certainly could have stopped traffic with how red his face was. “I’m flattered,” was all he could manage to say.

Mercedes and Sam turned to talk about a different topic. Blaine zoned out Sam’s impressions––he tended to go over the top with those when he was around a girl he liked––and explored his thoughts about Kurt Hummel.

Since coming into the spotlight, he’d avoided dating at all costs. This early in his career, it was dangerous to deal with matters of the heart. Sure, guys flirted with him, but it was hard to tell if they were doing it because they liked him or because they just liked his name. Blaine had made headlines by writing and singing songs that were openly about other men. He didn’t want to become the next Taylor Swift and have people speculate about who his songs were about.

Yes, Kurt was stunning, and Blaine was attracted to him. He couldn’t deny that. But this wasn’t a movie, or a song. This was real life, and matters of the heart were delicate. Could he risk opening himself up to someone, only to have them take advantage of him, or crack under the pressure of having a relationship in the public eye? There were too many risks.

_(you’re getting ahead of yourself, you just met the guy, and now you’re thinking about relationships?)_

Blaine pushed the thoughts aside. First things first––he had an excuse to get to know Kurt better. He had his number. Kurt had expressed interest in designing something for him. There was no harm in starting off their connection with a little bit of business.

Late that night, his head swirling with the events of the evening

_(and an unhealthy amount of champagne)_

Blaine took his phone out and scrolled to Kurt’s contact number. He curled up on his side and buried his face in his pillow. Did he dare send Kurt a message?

_(nope Anderson you’re drunk put the phone down before you make a fool of yourself)_

The phone barely left his hand before his eyes slipped closed, and he was met with dreams of eyes the colour of sapphire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positivity for the first chapter! There’s much more to come –– I have about 10 chapters written at the moment and ideas for more. Also, just a little easter egg, but each of the chapter names (and the fic name itself) are song titles. The first chapter was “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. This chapter references “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift.


	3. More Than A Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine goes to Kurt's office to talk about business.

****

 

 **October** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Blaine set his elbows down on the piano. The air erupted with dissonant notes. Under his breath, he let out a string of curses. “I hated that take,” he said.

“Blaine, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was perfect.” Nick’s tinny voice filtered through the speaker and into the sound booth. “Let’s take a break, and then try it again.”

Blaine sighed, but nodded, and reached for his water bottle. For months now, his writer’s block had only gotten worse and worse. It was like being caught up in the rush of the celebrity life was somehow squeezing out the last of his creative juices, leaving him high and dry without a melody to his name.

His phone buzzed from where it sat discarded on the floor. Blaine, too tired to stand, slumped to the ground and crawled to the phone. He laid down on the rough carpet of the sound booth and opened his messages.

 **Kurt:** Mercedes just informed me that if I didn’t text you she would refuse to wear my designs ever again.   
**Kurt:** So hi.

A smile crept onto Blaine’s features. He had wondered if Kurt would text first, or if he would have to be the one to break the ice. It had been less than two weeks since they had met at the AMAs, and though Blaine had thoroughly enjoyed meeting the

_(very attractive)_

up-and-coming designer, he hadn’t had much opportunity to dwell on the conversation since returning to New York. Too afraid of saying something stupid, he never texted him. Until now.

 **Blaine:** Personally I can’t believe she’d take the risk. I would KILL for one of your designs.

The response came almost immediately.

 **Kurt:** Let’s not resort to that. You live in NYC right?   
**Blaine:** You bet.   
**Kurt:** Perfect! Want to come to my studio next week to discuss?   
**Blaine:** That sounds like a dream come true. I have to go finish this recording sesh but text me the deets?   
**Kurt:** You got it. Good luck with the music making, superstar. x

Maybe it was a well-needed break, or maybe it was something to do with the little ‘x’ at the end of Kurt’s text, but Blaine resumed the session with a new energy. After two more run-throughs, he got all of the takes he needed, and left the studio with an extra skip in his step.

 

* * *

 

**One week later.**

Blaine’s car pulled up in front of a sleek building. It was nothing extremely upscale, not like a lot of the designers’ studios he usually went to. He reminded himself that Kurt was just starting to get his name out there. Within a year or two, he’d likely be in a much more impressive office.

But Blaine liked the more modest setting. It was easy to get carried away in the penthouses, the converted lofts, the fancy studios and apartments that celebrities gravitated to. Led by an assistant, Blaine stepped into the elevator with a sense of ease in his chest instead of the usual nerves he had going to one of these meetings.

From their short conversation, Blaine had gotten a good feeling from Kurt Hummel. Unlike the pompous millionaires that sauntered down the carpet, Kurt looked out of place, not because he wasn’t as fabulous or attractive as the rest of the people, but because he wasn’t spoiled rotten. He was a fresh face, and the moment they met, Blaine felt like a gravitational pull was drawing them together.

The elevator opened to an open-concept space. It was wide, mostly painted stark white. Professional lighting lit up every corner, and colourful modern chairs broke up the white expanse. Movable partitions divided the areas into fitting rooms, sewing stations, storage spaces, and countless other things that Blaine couldn’t begin to imagine. The world of fashion was a mystery to him.

He was led past racks of clothes, wardrobes and storage units. A flurry of activity as all manners of people moved around the space. Some carried coffee, others were hunched over sewing machines or pinning fabrics.

They rounded a partition to see Kurt in deep conversation with a lithe blonde woman. She had a glazed look in her eye, but Blaine got the sense that she was absorbing Kurt’s words somehow.

The assistant that led Blaine cleared her throat. “Mr. Hummel? Blaine Anderson is here to see you.”

Kurt glanced up, and as if the room hadn’t been lit brightly enough already, Kurt’s smile could have blinded. “Thanks! Brittany, we’ll talk later,” he said to the blonde.

The woman, Brittany, paused as she brushed past Blaine, and leaned in to whisper, “Your helmet smells like raspberries,” before disappearing somewhere around a corner. Blaine blinked, unsure if he heard her right, until he saw the smile on Kurt’s face.

“You get used to that. Let’s go to my office, okay?” he said.

It turned out that Kurt’s office was one of the only places on the floor that had real walls. Blaine was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with the whispers from Kurt’s staff of having new blood in the building.

The office was lavishly decorated, a mix of industrial and modern. One exposed brick wall had a number of funky decorative pieces, like a neon sign in the shape of a cupcake, and a retro wall clock. Kurt’s desk was a thin slate grey slab, with canary yellow modern seating in front and behind it.

“You have quite the eye for decor,” Blaine said, unable to process so many pops of colour. His eye drifted in every direction, until they finally came to settle on Kurt, who was watching Blaine with a look of… admiration? Curiosity? Blaine wasn’t sure.

“Thank you. Please, make yourself at home.”

Blaine sat in one of the yellow chairs, and was surprised when Kurt took the one beside him instead of sitting behind the desk. He had a pad of paper and pencil in hand. It seemed that Kurt Hummel was all business.

“I’m really glad you messaged me, Kurt,” Blaine said. “Ever since I saw Mercedes’ suit at the VMAs, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Me, too. I’m a fan. I listen to your music all the time. But it’s not just that because, you know, it’s nice to see a… well, another gay man in the spotlight.”

_(oh thank god he said ‘another’ that means he’s definitely gay okay Anderson don’t look too excited)_

“Not that that’s the most interesting thing about you, you’re very interesting, and I…” Kurt was rambling. Blaine couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry. What I mean is, I’m honoured to have you in my office.”

Who would have thought that the ingenious Kurt Hummel was so bashful? “The honour is mine. Really. I was thinking––if you’re up for it, I’d love to wear one of your outfits to the Grammys in January.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

“But that’s one of the biggest music events of the year! And you want to wear _me_ ?” Blaine watched as Kurt tucked the pencil behind his ear, deep in thought, and, perhaps, a bit of shock. After a few moments, he nodded. “I have so many ideas. _Too_ many ideas. I’d absolutely love to.”

Blaine found himself enamoured with watching Kurt’s mind work. He could practically see the gears turning, ideas flitting across his eyes. Kurt was scribbling on his notepad, words that Blaine couldn’t distinguish. “I trust you to come up with something,” he said. “I’ll get you in touch with my stylist, Unique––you’ll like her, I think. You can coordinate ideas for… things.” He laughed. “Truthfully, I know very little about fashion.”

Kurt let out a high, tinkling laugh. “Oh, I know. Those old YouTube videos of you in bowties and suspenders are precious,” he said, then flushed a deep pink. “I mean, not that I’m a stalker, or anything.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were,” Blaine said. He leaned his elbow on the arm rest, and rested his chin in his hand. “Say, Kurt. A close friend of mine is hosting a costume party on Halloween. Would you want to be my plus-one?”

Kurt’s pencil froze mid-word. He looked up. “You want to take me to a party?”

Now it was Blaine’s turn to blush. “Normally I’d take Sam––you remember Sam?” Kurt nodded, but there was no fondness in his eyes. Blaine bookmarked that thought for later. “Well, Sam is busy that night doing some modeling gig. I’d be happy to have a new friend there. And if we’re going to be working together, we should get to know one another, right?”

Kurt was already nodding vigorously. “I’d love to be your plus one. As long as we don’t do matching costumes. It’s tacky.”

Blaine grinned. “No matching costumes, I promise. In fact, let’s keep it a surprise. I’m fascinated to see what kind of Halloween costume Kurt Hummel can come up with.”

After a bit more chit-chat, Kurt led Blaine back out into the studio to take measurements. Stripped down to his boxer-briefs, Blaine was relieved when it was one of Kurt’s assistants in charge of the measuring tape, and not Kurt himself. Keeping professional would’ve been difficult with those hands all over him. Exposed in front of Kurt as he wrote down the measurements, Blaine felt more self-conscious than ever.

“Almost done, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said, and Blaine didn’t miss way he snuck a glance.

“Kurt, I’ve told you to call me Blaine. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

Kurt nodded, a little too enthusiastically, and then ducked his head against to scribble the latest measurement that the assistant called. “Alright, that’s all. You can, uh, get your clothes back on.”

“Thanks.” Blaine quickly pulled on his clothes again. By the time he was done, Kurt had passed on his notepad to his assistant and was waiting for him. “I can’t thank you enough for making time to see me. You must be so busy these days.”

Kurt smiled, and Blaine’s heart squeezed in his chest. Somehow, that smile got to him every time. “You’re always welcome here, Blaine. And… I’m looking forward to that party.”

Kurt extended a hand, as if to shake. Blaine laughed and nudged his hand away, instead enveloping Kurt in a hug. It took a moment before Kurt returned the gesture, and Blaine pulled away quickly, wondering if it was too much. He was a touchy guy––he usually preferred hugs to handshakes, but he probably should have asked first. He mentally smacked himself for making Kurt uncomfortable.

“I’ll send you the party info later,” Blaine said in a rush. “Thanks again.” With a parting smile, he rushed for the elevator, heart pounding in his chest.

_(what have you gotten yourself into?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying to include as many canon characters as I can without making it seem overwhelming or unrealistic. We’ll definitely see some more in the chapters to come, though, especially that Halloween party!  
> This chapter’s title based on “More Than A Feeling” by Boston.  
> Comments and kudos fuel my heart. Thanks for everyone who comments, I appreciate it endlessly.


	4. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt goes to a Halloween party as Blaine's plus-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that I’m leaving the country tomorrow for a couple of weeks so uploads will be much slower. I’ve been uploading every day since I’ve written ahead so much but as I won’t have much time to write/edit during my trip, I definitely won’t be getting a chapter up every day. There will definitely still be a chapter every once in a while, though, so don't give up on me!  
> As always, thank you so much for the kind comments and kudos!

****

 

**Halloween** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Kurt clipped on his sunshine-yellow suspenders. One look in the mirror told him that he had made a major mistake. A groan escaped his lips. “Why did I agree to this?” he said, turning away from the mirror to where Rachel was adjusting her cat-ear headband.

“Because a super hot pop star invited you?” she said. Rachel had gone for the classic sexy kitten look. Kurt had tried to talk her out of such a cliche, but Broadway star Rachel Berry didn’t have time to make anything extravagant. She was too busy with rehearsals to do anything over the top. 

“I don’t think Blaine is going to impressed by [Mickey Mouse](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DNVPZmiVAAAjVE_.jpg),” Kurt sighed. He had tried to think out of the box for his own outfit, but now he just looked like a preschooler.

“That’s because you’re going too ‘classic Mickey’. Come here,” Rachel said, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand. Begrudgingly, Kurt shuffled over and let Rachel make adjustments. “First of all, those sleeves are too long. We need to roll them a bit to show off your biceps.”

“Rachel…”

“Just trust me.” Rachel rolled up the bottoms of his short-sleeves, and Kurt had to admit, they did hug his muscles nicely. He had been working out a lot more since Mercedes told him he was her plus-one for the AMAs, and he had kept up with it since. “Now for these buttons.” Rachel started undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

“Rachel, I’m not trying to be sexy, here!” Kurt said, his cheeks reddening as she exposed a generous portion of his chest. 

“Oh good, you have a bit of chest hair. That will go a  _ long _ way,” Rachel said.

“Why is that?”

“Well, it makes you look more… manly? You’re Manly Mickey now.” She patted his cheek, and paused to run her fingers over his stubble. “Put on a tighter pair of pants, too. And don’t shave. That stubble is definitely sexy. Blaine Anderson won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

“ _ Rachel. _ ”

They had discussed several times since Kurt met with Blaine at his studio that yes, Blaine Anderson was incredibly attractive, and openly gay, but despite the fact that Kurt was already head-over-heels for him, it was  _ not _ going to happen. First, there was the press –– Blaine was still gaining popularity, especially since he’d won awards for best new artist and best pop song, and the paparazzi was constantly on his tail.

Then there was the issue of Sam. Kurt had no idea who this Sam Evans was, but a few Google searches had rewarded him with several photoshoots that made it clear he was a model. Notably, he had plenty of underwear shoots… and he was  _ gorgeous _ . Since he didn’t scream ‘undoubtedly heterosexual’ when they first met, Kurt was about ninety-nine percent sure that Sam must have been Blaine’s boyfriend. They had plenty of pictures together, and Blaine usually brought him as his plus-one.

_ (but he’s not Blaine’s date tonight) _

“Kurt, you are  _ miles _ away right now,” Rachel said, waving her hand an inch from Kurt’s nose. “Come down to Earth. You need to go draw on that cute Mickey nose while I do my eyeliner.”

Doing as he was told, Kurt grabbed the little black pot of face paint he’d brought and started applying a simple black circle on the tip of his nose. Looking in the mirror now, he could definitely see how Rachel’s adjustments had improved his costume. He had planned to shave his stubble, but…  _ fuck it _ , he thought. What did he have to lose?

“What do you think Blaine will be dressed as?” Rachel asked from the bathroom, where she was perfecting her cat-eye. “Has he dropped any hints?”

“Nothing I could pick out. I’m just hoping it’s not the Situation from Jersey Shore or something equally douchey.”

 

* * *

The moment Kurt entered the huge loft, it was like the air had been sucked right from his lungs. The party was already in full swing, music pumping through the speakers, a flurry of sexy and extravagant costumes alike in the crowd.

Beside him, Rachel squeezed his hand. “You are gonna kill this, Kurt.” She had been lucky enough to be invited as well. Rachel had been making a name for herself in the Broadway circuits, and had been sent an invitation, too. Kurt didn’t know the host personally –– she was a singer named Marley Rose that he had heard on the radio, but he didn’t know her face. 

“Let’s go find Blaine!” Rachel said, and yanked Kurt into the crowd. 

Kurt’s nerves grew as they ventured deeper into the loft. There was an open bar in the back, and after some coercion from Rachel, he was convinced to take a shot of tequila. His throat was still burning when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Blaine, in [an incredible David Bowie getup.](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/0a/83/f9/0a83f9da50b30858f50558ebf78ba39b--halloween--happy-halloween.jpg)

“Kurt, I thought that was you!” Blaine said, beaming as he took in Kurt’s costume. Kurt’s heart stuttered when Blaine’s eyes lingered just a second longer than normal on his exposed chest. “You look… different.”

“Well, I try not to look like Mickey Mouse on a daily basis,” Kurt said, earning him a laugh. “Your costume is amazing!”

Blaine gave a twirl, and his spiky blond wig swished and sparkled under the colourful lights of the party. His skin was absolutely covered in glitter. “ _ Labyrinth _ is one of my favourite movies. I have Unique to thank for the wig and makeup.”

Try as he might, Kurt couldn’t stop glancing at Blaine’s incredibly tight pants. He swallowed nervously and drew his eyes back up to Blaine’s face. “Well, you pull it off really well.”

Was it the lights, or was Blaine blushing? Kurt didn’t have a chance to think about it before he felt a nudge at his side and someone cleared their throat beside him. “Oh, Blaine, this is Rachel Berry. Rachel, this is Blaine Anderson.”

He watched with envy as Blaine and Rachel embraced and started chattering about Broadway. Of course Blaine would be a Broadway nerd. He should have ditched Rachel the moment he arrived. He used the opportunity to examine Blaine’s extremely tight pants again while he was sidelined. 

“Hey, Kurt, let me introduce you to a couple people,” said Blaine. His hand wrapped around Kurt’s wrist, and Kurt let himself be maneuvered through the crowd. Kurt met Unique Adams, Blaine’s stylist, dressed as Tina Turner; Marley Rose, the host of the party, dressed as Wonder Woman; a few other of Blaine’s friends that Kurt immediately forgot the names of; until they finally made their way back to the bar.

“I feel like a small fish in a huge fishbowl right now,” Kurt breathed, exhausted from the introductions. 

Blaine chuckled and bumped him with his hip. “You’re doing great,” he said, leaning close so that Kurt could hear him over the music. The hair on the back of Kurt’s neck stood on end. “What are you drinking, Mickey?”

“Um, whatever you’re having,” Kurt said. He wasn’t sure if he had the mental capacity to think of a single drink at that moment.

Moments later, he had a margarita in hand. “You seem like the kind of guy to appreciate the classics,” Blaine said as he handed it over. “Cheers!” They clinked glasses and each took a sip. Kurt watched Blaine over the rim of his glass. He certainly seemed to be having a blast.

A voice cut through the noise. “Hey, squirt!” 

As if a switch had been flipped, the smile fell from Blaine’s face. A beaming, chiseled face appeared at Blaine’s shoulder. Kurt’s eyes widened. He would recognize Cooper Anderson anywhere. Not only had he gotten his start with the credit rating commercial all those years ago, but he’d since been making appearances as minor characters in all the TV shows that Kurt watched. And here he was, standing in front of him like it was no big deal. Notably, not wearing a costume.

“Hey, Coop,” Blaine deadpanned. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend here?” Cooper said, flashing a dazzling smile at Kurt. 

“Kurt, this is Cooper. Cooper, this is Kurt Hummel.”

“Ah, so this is the famous Kurt Hummel I’ve been hearing about,” Cooper said, extending a hand towards him. Kurt eagerly shook it, regretting holding his cold drink in his right hand. Cooper Anderson was worth more than a clammy handshake. “Gotta be honest, Kurt, I’m hurt that Blainey over here got to meet you before I did.”

Something clicked in Kurt’s brain. Of  _ course _ Cooper was Blaine’s brother. They had the same last name. He hadn’t yet made that connection; they didn’t look too much alike, and he had never seen a photo of them together, and Anderson wasn’t an uncommon name. He watched as Blaine knocked back the rest of his drink in a single movement. 

_ (mind. blown.) _

“Coop, you’re not wearing a costume,” Blaine said. Cooper was wearing a simple button down and dress pants.

“Hey, I dress up for a living. I thought being myself would be a welcome change.”

“It’s a costume party, Cooper.”

Kurt noted for the first time –– drawing his eyes away from the stunning Cooper Anderson –– that Blaine looked uncomfortable, and inched away from Cooper every time the older brother went to put a hand on his shoulder or nudge him playfully. 

_ (Operation Save Blaine now in effect) _

Kurt swiftly finished his margarita and placed his glass on the bartop.

“It was nice to meet you, Cooper, but Blaine promised me a dance, so I think I’m going to cash that in now if you don’t mind.”

“I did?” Blaine frowned, his eyebrows scrunching adorably. Kurt grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away to the dance floor. A rush of relief flooded his features. “Thanks for that, Kurt. I love my brother, but he can be a bit much,” he said.

“No problem. Plus, I do really want a dance with you,” Kurt said. On cue, an old Katy Perry tune started blasting through the speakers. A new surge of energy spread through him as Blaine grabbed his hands and began twisting his hips. He moved as if it was second nature, not caring that they were surrounded by a hundred people.

Kurt, much less used to dancing, did little more than shimmy his shoulders and turn in time to Blaine’s movements. He let Blaine lead, guiding him through the crowd and pulling him in whenever someone stumbled too close.

_ You make me feel like I’m livin’ a _ _   
_ _ Teenage dream, the way you turn me on _

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Kurt was beginning to loosen up by the end of the song. Blaine was a great dancer, his fluid movements making him feel more at ease with every step. Katy Perry transitioned into the opening chords of a familiar song.

Kurt gasped. “I  _ love _ Gaga,” he said, eyes lighting up.  _ Born This Way _ pumped into the dance floor, and all of a sudden, Kurt was in his element. Okay, it was definitely the alcohol –– he realized he didn’t care if he looked stupid, he was dancing to  _ his song, _ with  _ Blaine Anderson _ . If there was any time to let loose, it was then.

_ I’m on the right track, baby _ _   
_ _ I was born this way _

A hand slid around his waist. Blaine was closer now, their chests almost touching. The air caught in Kurt’s throat. He could feel Blaine’s body heat. For a moment, they were suspended in time; the crowd slowed around them, and the sweat in the air pressed closer. 

Kurt couldn’t breathe.

“I-I need some air,” Kurt gasped, pulling away from Blaine more abruptly than he intended. As he pushed through the crowd, he heard Blaine call his name. He didn’t look back as he stumbled to the glass door to the balcony and tugged it open.

The cool autumn air hit him like a brick wall. Kurt took a deep breath and went to the edge of the balcony to lean against the bannister. They were high up, all of New York City spread below them, high risers creating a funnel for a brisk breeze. His heart began to slow to a reasonable rate. 

The glass door slid shut behind him, and Kurt whirled around to see Blaine standing on the balcony, his forehead creased with concern. “Kurt? Are you alright?” He took a timid step forward, as if afraid that Kurt would snap at him or something.

“Yes, I’m… fine.” He faced away from Blaine and rested his elbows on the bannister, putting his face in his hands.

Footsteps shuffled up beside him. A warm arm pressed against his. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Kurt looked up. “God, no, Blaine. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… it’s me. I got overwhelmed. I’m not used to this life.” He gestured vaguely. At the loft, at the city, he didn’t know what exactly. Just that in a crowd like this, filled with gorgeous celebrities, he didn’t feel right. He was just a small town kid from Ohio who liked fashion. How did he end up here?

“Honestly, me neither,” Blaine said quietly. At Kurt’s look, he laughed uneasily. “Don’t look so surprised. Don’t forget, I’m new to this, too. Even after about… well, a year in this business, I still feel out of place. I got to see a bit of it before, because of Coop, but… I don’t know. I think it would be hard to get used to living like this.”

“But you seem so comfortable in there.”

“Maybe I should’ve been an actor.” Their eyes met, and Blaine’s hazel eyes softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. I think I might head home, though. Sorry if that makes me a party pooper.”

“Not at all. Here, let me call you a cab. It’s the least I can do.” Blaine pulled out his phone. Kurt watched him idly, chin in his hand, as Blaine ordered the cab. He thanked the person on the line and ended the call. “Should be here in about ten minutes.” Then he chuckled. “Um, Kurt. You’ve got a bit of…” He gestured to his face vaguely.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s just, your nose got smudged.” Blaine reached over and thumbed a spot on Kurt’s cheek. Kurt’s eyes went wide as Blaine scrubbed away the black mark, then retracted his hand. “All better now.”

“Th-thanks.”

“Anytime. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter name brought to you by “Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time” by Panic! at the Disco.


	5. Suspicious Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine meet for coffee.

****

 

**November** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Blaine waited by the second floor window of the cafe, a pair of black sunglasses shading his eyes. Per Unique’s instruction, he had let his curls rather loose and worn a nondescript button-up underneath his winter jacket. Thankfully, it was sunny out, and sitting by the window allowed him to keep the shades on.

The paparazzi had been getting out of hand. It had taken all of his resources to give them the slip in order to get his afternoon coffee. Normally, he would make one in his apartment to avoid getting his picture taken, but today, he had a good reason for going out.

His phone buzzed. _About a minute away!_

A smile spread across Blaine’s features. Ever since the Halloween party, his infatuation for Kurt had grown. A few days ago he had plucked up the courage––with much encouragement from Sam––to ask Kurt out to coffee. It wasn’t strictly a _date_ , but… Blaine could dream.

Uncertainty prickled at the back of his mind. Kurt had been cagey during the Halloween party, and awkward, and Blaine didn’t know if that was because he had been too touchy, too enthusiastic, too… everything.

But that dance. Blaine had dreamt about it a few times now. The heat of the dance floor, his hand on Kurt’s waist, the thump of the music around them, and despite the crowd, it was their own little bubble. It was intimate. And every time he dreamt it, he saw Kurt cupping his face, drawing him close, and pressing those silky lips to his––

“Hi!”

Blaine snapped out of his daydream. Kurt hadn’t bothered with a disguise. He looked as fashionable as ever in [a dark plaid blazer and jeans](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/14/77/b4/1477b41228beb473369a81bd91e315e1.jpg). Envy flitted through Blaine’s mind; the average day to day person didn’t tend to recognize fashion designers, and Kurt was still new to the scene. He had the advantage of freedom when he walked around.

Blaine stood up, and lifted his sunglasses to rest on his forehead. He wanted to look into Kurt’s eyes

_(they’re more beautiful every time I see them)_

as he pulled him into a brief hug. “It’s nice to see you,” he said softly as they pulled apart.

“You, too.” Kurt sounded a little breathless. Blaine chalked it up to his climb up the stairs. They both took a seat. With a nervous glance around, Blaine resisted the urge to put his shades back on. He didn’t want this to be weird. “I’m going to go get a coffee––can I get you a refill?” he nodded to Blaine’s near-empty cup.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Blaine said. “Medium drip.”

“I’m on it.”

Kurt left his coat slung over the back of his chair, and made his way back downstairs. Blaine watched him go––nobody would know if he snuck a glance at Kurt’s butt, would they?––and then turned back to the window. The nerves began to build, and he drummed his fingers on the table.

“Man up, Anderson,” he muttered to himself.

Kurt returned, two coffees in tow, and set one down in front of Blaine. “One medium drip for Blaine,” he chimed, and took a seat across from him.

“Thank you, kind sir. I owe you.”

“You’ll just have to buy the next one,” said Kurt.

_(is he flirting? or is that just wishful thinking?)_

They chatted for a while. About the weather, the party, their preferences on whatever song came on in the cafe speaker system. Surface-level stuff. _Easy_ stuff. Blaine leaned forward, perching his elbows on the table, lost in the conversation. The more they talked, the more he felt that he could talk to Kurt forever. He wanted to know everything about him.

“I was actually working on your suit designs today,” Kurt said some time later, when their coffee cups were mostly empty.

“No, don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise,” Blaine said.

“You trust me that much?”

“Sure I do, Kurt. I think I’d trust you with anything.” The surprise on Kurt’s face made him wonder if he had said too much. Backpedalling, Blaine stared into his coffee cup. “I mean, I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I really like you, Kurt. Being around you feels… natural. It’s hard to find that these days.”

“I feel the same way.”

Blaine let out a quiet sigh of relief.

_(now’s your chance to ask him out, do it do it do it)_

“Kurt, I––”

“Excuse me?” A tiny, shy voice made them both look over to where a teenage girl was standing over their table. Her eyes were alight with awe as she looked at Blaine. He saw her hands were trembling as she clutched her cellphone. “I’m sorry to bother you, I just… I’m a really big fan.”

Blaine forced a smile onto his face. Normally he didn’t mind being interrupted by fans, but why did it have to be now, when he was with Kurt? “It’s no problem. What’s your name?”

“Kacey. I’m sixteen. Can I get a selfie?”

Several selfie takes later, Blaine gave the girl a polite hug and said goodbye. He sank into his chair and looked at Kurt, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, it’s sweet,” Kurt said. “Some people would be rude to fans like that, but you’re not. I think it’s amazing.”

Blaine’s heart swelled. “I’m glad you think so. Some people might say it’s self-indulgent, but I don’t know. I don’t do it for me, I do it for them, you know?”

Kurt nodded. Then he laughed a little. “Is it usually teenage girls?”

“Shut up,” Blaine said, unable to help himself from laughing a little, too. “Sometimes it’s guys. Usually gay guys who are happy to have someone like them on the radio.”

“I get that.” Kurt leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Do they ever flirt with you?”

“Sometimes,” Blaine confessed. “But it’s usually innocent. I’m not really interested in dating a fan, anyway. It’s hard to figure out if someone’s into you for _you_ or just because people know your name.”

_(and none of them are as attractive as you)_

Kurt leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “I hope this isn’t, um… too personal or anything, but…” He hesitated.

“Ask away, Kurt. I don’t mind.”

“Are you and that Sam guy dating?”

Blaine blinked. The question caught him off-guard. It took him a moment to digest the idea before formulating an answer. “Sam is my best friend,” he said. “Yeah, I take him to events and stuff, but mostly because I don’t want to go alone. He’s a great guy, and I love him, but…” He shook his head. “He’s just a friend.”

There was a look in Kurt’s eye that Blaine didn’t like. Disbelief, maybe? Blaine wondered if it was jealousy, but that would be ridiculous. Kurt had no reason to be jealous of Sam. But Kurt just nodded, downed the last of his coffee, and stood. “It was really great to see you, Blaine, but I should probably go.”

Blaine stood, too. “Already?”

Kurt laughed and glanced to the clock on the wall. “We’ve been here a couple hours, you know.”

“Oh.” It was too short. “Sorry if I kept you from anything.”

Kurt shook his head, shrugged on his coat and scarf, and gave Blaine a parting smile. “See you around, Blaine.”

 

* * *

 

 “He’s totally into that stupid model, Mercedes.” Kurt collapsed against the plethora of pillows on his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. Mercedes’ voice came through the phone that he’d laid out next to him, speaker mode on.

“That Sam guy?”

“Yes. You should’ve seen the way he talked about him when I asked. ‘He’s a great guy, and I love him.’ How could I be so stupid?”

“It’s not stupid, boo. He invited you for coffee. It sounded like a date to me.”

“He says Sam’s just his friend, but how much do you want to bet he’s secretly in love with him? How could he not be? I saw Sam’s underwear shots, he’s gorgeous!”

“Even I can agree with that. But listen, Kurt, why don’t you just outright ask Blaine to go out? And I mean using the d-word. Don’t let there be room for miscommunication.”

“I don’t think I could handle the rejection.”

An exaggerated sigh came through the speaker. “That is not the confident Kurt Hummel I know and love. He couldn’t possibly say no to–– _oh my god!_ ”

Kurt sat up straight, alarmed by the switch in tone. “What? What is it?”

“Get your butt on Twitter _right now_.”

Kurt dove for his laptop and pulled up Twitter at lightning speed. “I don’t see anything.”

A little bubble appeared over his direct messages icon. Kurt clicked it; a message from Mercedes showed a link to a tweet. He clicked on it, heart pounding, urging his shitty internet to load faster.

“Did you see?”

The picture finally popped up. Kurt’s jaw dropped. It was a picture of him and Blaine at the cafe from earlier that day, taken from a few tables away. His stomach twisted. Blaine was speaking, in the middle of talking, his features bright and animated like they always were when he talked. Kurt couldn’t see his own face, but he recognized the back of his head.

“Kurt?”

“I’m here. Oh, God, Mercedes.” Kurt started scrolling through the replies to the tweet, which was, he noted with annoyance, posted by the very same Kacey that had interrupted their conversation. “It already has hundreds of thousands of retweets.”

“Everyone’s trying to figure out who the cutie with the brown hair is.” He heard Mercedes giggle and he scowled at the phone.

He read through some of the tweets. Most of them were speculating about who Kurt was and if it was a date. His whole face felt like it was on fire, and he thanked whatever higher power there might be that this hadn’t come out until he had gotten home. What would Blaine think of this?

 

* * *

 

  **@BlaineAnderson tweeted:** when just having a coffee with a friend becomes viral… you know you’ve made it. Now let me drink my medium drip in peace. <3

 

* * *

 

**Blaine:** Remember that “next one” you promised?   
**Blaine:** Maybe it should be at my place.   
**Blaine:** Cuz like, less cameras.   
**Blaine:** My place tomorrow at 1?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last upload before I leave the country. :) Today’s chapter name brought to you by “Suspicious Minds” by Elvis Presley.


	6. Heat Of The moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee round two, this time at Blaine's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I’m now in the UK (hello to any readers from over here) and had a little bit of time so this is what I have to upload. Don’t know when I’ll get to upload next, but enjoy this chapter!

****

 

 **November** **  
** **NYC, New York**

As soon as the knock came at the door, Blaine shot up from the couch. He forced himself to walk at a normal pace, straighten out his shirt

_(oh god why didn’t I iron it)_

and did a quick check of his teeth in the mirror that hung in the foyer. Then he took a deep breath, straightened up, and opened the door to see Kurt, handsome as ever. “Hey there, stranger. Come on in.”

_(nailed it)_

He stepped aside to let Kurt in. After the fumble of a hug, taking Kurt’s coat to hang in the closet, and handing over a small pastry box, Blaine led him to the kitchen. “It’s just a little something I picked up from the bakery around the corner from me,” Kurt explained.

Blaine gasped when he saw the two little cupcakes tucked into the box. “Kurt, these are _adorable_. Hold on, I’ll grab some plates.”

Kurt leaned against the doorway as Blaine moved around the kitchen. He could feel Kurt’s eyes on him as he reached up for two dessert plates and two mugs, then started the coffee machine. “I hope you like Italian roast,” he said.

Kurt just hummed in response. He was being curiously quiet. Blaine set the cupcakes out on the dessert plates and handed one over. “Penny for your thoughts?” he said, anxiety thrumming through his veins. _Kurt was in his apartment_.

“Oh, just thinking about… you know. That photo from yesterday.”

Blaine nodded, humming around a mouthful of cupcake. He chewed, swallowed, and sighed. He knew that would come up in conversation. Better sooner than later. “I’m sorry about that. I thought I was being stealthy.”

Kurt chuckled, and swiped the icing off his cupcake with his index finger. “You’re kind of hard to miss,” he said.

“I’m trying to think of a snarky response to that, but I’m distracted by the fact you eat the icing _before_ the rest of the cupcake. Kurt, this is serious. I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.” He turned to the coffee pot and poured two cups, smiling to himself when he heard Kurt’s laugh.

He wanted things to be easy between them. It was too difficult these days to find true friends, and he sensed from Kurt, even knowing him for such a short time, that he was a genuine guy. He didn’t want that to be ruined by paparazzi and social media.

They sat out in the living space, on opposite ends of the couch, finishing their cupcakes in silence. Blaine usually hated silences, but with Kurt, he didn’t mind. It was a comfortable silence, like there was no pressure to fill the air with meaningless words.

“So, the picture…” Kurt started, hugging his mug close to his chest.

“People will forget about it soon,” Blaine said. “Social media posts have a shelf life of about two days before something else pops up.”

Kurt nodded solemnly. Blaine sensed that he wanted to say something, but was holding back. So he stayed quiet, hoping that if he waited long enough, the words would come.

The air chimed with a notification from Blaine’s phone. “Shit, sorry.” He’d forgotten to put it on silent mode. He pulled it out and saw a message from Sam–– _Movie night tonight? X-Men is calling to me and I want to work on my Wolverine impression._

He snorted. “It’s Sam. He wants to do a movie night tonight.” He looked up, and the smile fell away from his face when he saw Kurt’s pursed lips. He turned off his phone and set it aside. “Sorry, that was rude of me.” Desperate to change the subject, he said, “Speaking of Sam... I was watching the VMAs with him the day after and he couldn’t stop going on about Mercedes. That was how I first heard of you, because he made me listen to that red carpet interview.”

He wasn’t sure which part of the sentence caused Kurt to smile so brightly, but Blaine wished Kurt could have that look on his face forever. “Oh, really? He likes Mercedes?”

“Trust me, his entire gym playlist is just her album.”

After that, they slipped back into easy conversation. Whatever seemed to be bothering Kurt had disappeared, at least for the moment. Blaine learned a lot more about Kurt––they both were from Ohio, for one. Both had been in their respective glee clubs, neither had finished college (or in Kurt’s case, never started), and both had no desire to move from New York.

“Most people just assume I’m moving to LA one day,” Blaine said. Their coffees were long finished, and they were now sitting much closer on the couch. Blaine had his legs tucked under him, one arm slung across the back of the cushion.

_(any excuse to be closer to Kurt)_

“But you don’t want to?” Kurt asked.

“New York City was always my dream. I don’t mind flying to LA every once in a while, but New York is what feels like home to me,” Blaine said. “I can’t really explain why.”

“No, I understand. I always dreamed of being on Broadway, like Rachel…” Kurt got a faraway look in his eyes. “But it wasn’t meant to be. Not getting into NYADA showed me that. It led me to fashion, though. Which really, was my passion since forever.”

“I’m a firm believer that things will always work out in the end,” Blaine said. “Although, now that we’ve talked enough about glee club and Broadway, I’m dying to hear you sing.”

“Oh, God, no. I’m so out of practice.”

Blaine scratched his chin mischievously. “Surely you have something up your sleeve.” He stood from the couch and crossed the room to his music corner. It was really just the one corner of the apartment where he kept all of his instruments and sheet music. A piano was pushed against the wall, and a guitar sat next to it. Stacks of sheet music and blank staff paper surrounded it; this was where he wrote most of his music and practiced.

Blaine sat at the keyboard and looked over to where Kurt was still curled up on the couch. Blaine plunked out the first few notes of _Defying Gravity_. “Surely a Broadway connoisseur such as yourself knows Wicked?” he said with a grin.

“Don’t tempt me!”

Blaine held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, no Wicked. How about this: I’ll sing one first, and then you go after. Deal?”

“Why would I agree with that?”

“Because you can’t turn down a private concert from Blaine Anderson.”

The sheer amount of sass packed into Kurt’s eye roll was enough to make Blaine’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You’re becoming unbearable, you know that, right?”

“I’m trying to annoy you into singing for me, just to shut me up.” Blaine started playing an intro to a song, letting his hands flow across the keyboard.

 _You think I’m pretty without any makeup on_   
_You think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong_   
_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down_ _  
_Down

The song had come naturally when Blaine remembered the way they danced at the party. Now, though, Blaine turned it into a ballad. He stripped away with upbeat pop tune and just let the lyrics flow. _No regrets, just love_. If only it were that easy.

Being with Kurt _did_ feel like a teenage dream. It had all of the same innocence, the uncertainty, the added pressure of being watched. Normal twenty-somethings didn’t have to worry about the world watching who they dated. Being a celebrity was like being in high school. Except, perhaps the gossip was even worse.

Halfway through the song, Blaine closed his eyes, playing the piano on autopilot, sinking into the melody with practiced ease.

 _My heart stops when you look at me_ _  
_ _Just one touch, now baby I believe_

It was November now––could it really only have been less than a month ago that they met? Blaine hadn’t known it until then, but all of the writer’s block and the claustrophobia of the industry had left him searching. Searching for what, he hadn’t known… but then there was Kurt. It felt like he’d been looking forever, and now, he was here, just a few feet away.

The song came to a close, the last notes from the piano fading into the air, and the apartment was deathly silent. Blaine opened his eyes, afraid to look at Kurt. Was it too much? Doubts clouded his mind as he realized that besides one dance and a few flirty comments, he and Kurt were little more than strangers, brought together only a handful of times. And he had just serenaded him with a love song out of nowhere.

What if he had just made a colossal fool of himself?

 

* * *

 

Their second “coffee date” had started out less than stellar. Kurt knew it was largely his fault that the conversation had been so stilted. Try as he might, the idea of opening up to someone like Blaine was terrifying. He was a man in the public eye, far more so than Kurt. And then came the text from Sam… that goofy smile on Blaine’s face had put Kurt in a bad mood, because it hadn’t been because of _him_ that Blaine smiled that way.

It was reassuring to know that Sam had a crush on Mercedes. Cute, and juvenile, but it meant that he was into women. The look on Blaine’s face, teasing Sam, made Kurt question his initial judgement that Blaine harboured feelings for his friend. Maybe he had been too quick to judge, too quick to doubt that Blaine could ever be interested in him.

Because then came the _song_.

Kurt wouldn’t have been able to describe the feelings that flooded him when Blaine started singing Teenage Dream. It was hope, it was infatuation, it was enchantment. Blaine transformed when he sang, turning from the dorky, bubbly guy with an addiction to bowties to a soothing, angelic siren, pulling him into a whirlpool of emotion.

 _Let’s run away and don’t ever look back_ _  
_ _Don’t ever look back_

Kurt let himself be sucked into the performance. The ghost of Blaine’s hand on his waist pulled him back to the Halloween party. They had been so close then. He suddenly yearned for that closeness again.

When the last notes faded away, and Kurt dug his nails into his palm to ground himself in the present. Here was Blaine, in front of him, not daring to look at him. Kurt watched his profile, not sure if he wanted Blaine to look at him or not. Was he _embarrassed_?

After a drawn out pause, Kurt realized he needed to say something. A breathy laugh escaped him. “I’m not sure I can follow that.”

Blaine let out a huff of laughter, and swivelled on the piano bench to meet his eyes.

_(my heart stops when you look at me)_

Blaine blinked a few times, and bit down on his bottom lip, deep in thought. Kurt began to fidget.

“Blaine…” Tension crackled in the air. He was at a loss. What was he supposed to say? You’re incredible? You’re all I’ve ever wanted? You have the voice of an angel? I barely know you and I’m already falling for––

“Fuck it.”

Before Kurt knew what was happening, Blaine stood up abruptly from the bench and closed the distance between them. He took Kurt’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together, wet and warm. Blaine’s body sunk down onto his, straddling him on the couch, both holding their breath through the kiss.

Kurt recovered from his shock and hands found Blaine’s hips to pull him closer. Blaine deepened the kiss, catching Kurt’s bottom lip between his own. The quiet room was filled only with the quiet shuffle of their movements, their shallow breaths. A hand crept around Kurt’s jaw, cradling him with a delicacy that gave him goosebumps.

Blaine’s singing had given him a rush of warmth, but it was nothing compared to the inferno that spiked under his skin now, crawling like fire up his arms and legs. There was nothing beyond this couch, nothing beyond the two of them, just Kurt and Blaine and their lips and Blaine’s hands and hips and––

“Hey, dude, I know I’m early but––oh, shit.”

Cold air replaced Blaine’s lips, and Kurt’s eyes blinked open, turning towards the source of the voice. _Sam_. Blaine immediately rolled off his lap and curled up on the sofa next to him, grabbing a throw pillow to hug to his chest.

_(or wait, is he covering his crotch?)_

“Jesus, Sam, _knock_.”

“You gave me a key.” Sam held up a keyring with several keys hanging from it. He had a DVD in his other hand. “How was I supposed to know you had a dude over? You weren’t answering your phone. Hey, Kurt.”

“Hi.” Kurt’s voice came out as little more than a squeak. He knew his entire face was flushed a deep pink.

“Dude. X-Men.”

“You said you were coming over _tonight_ ,” Blaine said, and Kurt couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride at the frustration in his voice.

“Yeah, I figured I’d come now and we’d order pizza.” Sam flopped down on the couch next to Blaine and threw an arm around him. “You’re welcome to join, Kurt.”

“That’s okay.” Kurt stood up, cleared his throat, and smoothed out his shirt. “I should get going.”

Blaine shrugged Sam’s arm off and got to his feet. “Are you sure? I can make Sam leave.”

“Hey!”

Kurt shook his head, suppressing a smile. “No, it’s okay. Raincheck on that performance I owe you.”

Blaine walked him to the front door. Kurt’s heart was racing. Everything was up in the air now. Would they hug goodbye? Or kiss? Was it presumptuous to ask to go out again, but on a real date? The kiss had turned his head into a gooey mess. It took all his mental energy just to pull on his coat.

“I’m ordering Hawaiian!” Sam’s voice called from the living room.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

“It’s okay. I definitely believe now that you’re just friends.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, is _that_ why you looked unhappy when I got his text?” He stepped closer and started working on the buttons of Kurt’s coat for him. He lowered his voice to tease, “Were you _jealous_?”

Kurt brushed Blaine’s hands away and finished doing up the last button himself. “I will not justify that with an answer,” he sniffed.

Blaine’s arms came to wrap around Kurt’s neck, and he stepped even closer. His voice ducked to a murmur. “Now that’s sorted out… Can we do this again? I’d really, _really_ like to pick up where we left off.”

A thrill went up Kurt’s spine. “I think that could be arranged,” he breathed.

Blaine caught his lips again; a slow, heavenly kiss that was far too short before Blaine was pulling away. Kurt tried to chase his lips

_(god, those lips!)_

but felt a hand press to his chest and gently push him away. “Not until I hear you sing.” Blaine grinned, stepped back, and leaned against the wall. “Goodbye, Kurt.”

“Goodbye, Blaine.”

 

* * *

 

 **@KEHummel tweeted:** It’s official. Teenage Dream by Katy Perry is the best song of all time.   
[Retweeted by **@BlaineAnderson** and 147k others]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is based on the song by Asia. I intended for this to be more of a slow burn but then the idea for this chapter came and I couldn’t help sliding a little smooch in there. Don’t worry though, there’s more push and pull to come. Nothing is ever easy for these boys!  
> Additionally, you might have noticed that there is now a chapter count! I’ve decided to round out this fic to a neat 25 chapters, because I think that’s how long it will take to tell this particular story, but I have so many ideas for more stories for this AU, so I think I may turn this into a series. I’m thinking of calling it the “Love Song” series or something like that. Let me know in the comments what you think, and if you have ideas for the series name :) Thanks for reading! Your feedback makes my day!


	7. R U Mine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's ramping up to the Christmas holidays, and sometimes it's hard to make time even for the people you really want to see.

****

 

**December** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Time passed in a flurry of activity. The memories of Blaine’s apartment slipped away as Kurt realized he had to focus on work. With Christmas approaching, most of his staff would be going home for the holidays and taking time off, leaving him alone to continue working. Besides Blaine’s outfit, he had other orders to finish. He had requests for dresses, suits, and anything in between. Mostly for lesser known celebrities, but still, it was work, and it needed all of his focus.

**Kurt:** Want a sneak peek of the fabric?   
**Blaine:** I already told you it should be a surprise!

Kurt shook his head, setting his phone aside. He and Blaine had a constant stream of texts going, but neither of them had mentioned the incident at Blaine’s apartment. A few times Blaine had asked if he was free for lunch or coffee, but Kurt turned him down with each request.  _ Too busy, I’m sorry _ , was his usual response. 

He wanted to see Blaine.  _ Desperately _ . But work came first, no matter who called. 

True to Blaine’s word, the discussion around the picture on Twitter died down after a few days. Everyone lost interest when they couldn’t figure out who the man in the picture was, and Kurt was relieved. He still hadn’t made up his mind on what to do about Blaine.

He liked Blaine. Really, he did. But he didn’t know if he could handle dating a celebrity.

_ (assuming he actually wants to date you) _

That was the other thing. Blaine said he wanted to “pick up where they left off”... but that didn’t mean he wanted to date Kurt. It meant he wanted to kiss Kurt––and Kurt wasn’t complaining––but he wasn’t sure if he could put himself through the emotional turmoil if Blaine didn’t want anything more. Celebrities were fickle. Would he drop Kurt the moment he got bored, or found someone hotter and more famous to date?

He shook himself out of those thoughts and hunched over his sewing machine. The fact that he was caught up in his relationship status with  _ Blaine fucking Anderson _ was crazy enough to make him shelf the thought for a later day.

*

**@KEHummel tweeted:** Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light~   
**@BlaineAnderson replied:** *blasts Under the Mistletoe by Justin Bieber on repeat until the 25th*

*

“Hey, squirt. You coming to visit for Christmas?” Cooper’s grainy image came through on Skype. Blaine rolled his eyes as he saw his brother was wearing a cucumber face mask.

“No, Coop. We talked about this,” Blaine said, sighing and leaning back on the couch. He absently plucked at the guitar in his lap, a soft melody on the strings.

“Yeah, we did, but I was hoping you changed your mind.” Cooper lifted the cucumbers off his eyes and leaned into the camera. “What’s that you’re playing?”

“Just something I’ve been working on.” Blaine’s fingers stilled on the strings. He prepared for Cooper to make a comment about it being mediocre.

“Are you over your writer’s block, then?”

“Oh. I guess so.”

“Does this have anything to do with whatever guy you were out getting coffee with a couple weeks ago?”

Blaine clenched his jaw, wanting more than anything to change the subject. He hadn’t told Cooper about Kurt yet; that honour was reserved for Sam, who was the only one who he trusted with boy problems. Sam was a good listener, good at encouragement, but wasn’t extremely nosy because he was so oblivious to everything.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Coop! It’s nothing, okay? I was in a slump before, now I’m not. Simple as that.” Blaine set the guitar aside.

“Alright, I get it, you don’t wanna talk about boys with your loving, caring, amazing older brother. It’s fine. I’m not offended.”

Blaine groaned, feeling like he was moments away from ripping the curls right out of his scalp. “Okay, fine. It’s a guy. I really like him, and I don’t want to jinx it, so can we stop talking about it, please?”

“Wow, squirt. This guy’s really got you, huh? Do I know him?”

“What part of  _ can we stop talking about it _ do you not understand?”

“The  _ not _ part. Answer the question.”

“Yes, you know him.” Blaine resigned himself to the conversation. Part of him wanted desperately to talk about Kurt, but not with Cooper, who had the subtlety of an elephant and a jaw that flapped more than a bird’s wings. “You met him once.”

“Just once… hm. What colour are his eyes?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions?”

“ _ Answer,  _ Blainey, or I’ll have to drag Twitter into this, and they’re much better detectives than I am.”

“Fine. Blue.”

“Aw, you’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

After being grilled for half an hour, Blaine said goodbye and promised to tell Cooper all about the guy when things were clearer. If there was one positive thing about their conversation, it was that Blaine realized just how in deep he was with Kurt. He answered every question with a smile, remembering how Kurt had felt, his intoxicating smell, the glide of his lips…

His phone pinged as he was getting out of the shower.

**Kurt:** I’m terrified you’re going to hate this suit.   
**Blaine:** You’re still working? It’s almost 11.   
**Kurt:** No rest for the incredibly talented.   
**Blaine:** Don’t overthink it. It’s going to be amazing. Maybe I’d let you show me a sample of the design if you got breakfast with me tomorrow?   
**Kurt:** I can’t. Sorry. I have a fitting for a client at 8am. :(

Blaine suppressed the noise of frustration that was climbing in his throat. Kurt was  _ always _ busy. Blaine was, too––he had tons of rehearsals and studio sessions, interviews, meetings, and the like––but he would have made time for Kurt. Why didn’t Kurt want to make time for him?

_ (because he regrets kissing you and he doesn’t like you and you’re making it all up in your head and he probably thinks you’re too pretentious and he’s way out of your league and––) _

Blaine collapsed into bed, still in his wet towel, not bothering to get into his pajamas. Hugging a pillow to his chest, if he concentrated really hard, he could almost imagine it was Kurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter… but it was quick and easy to edit during my travels so I hope you enjoyed! Title based on “R U Mine?” by the Arctic Monkeys.


	8. Alone and Sublime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve, and Blaine wants to make sure that Kurt doesn't spend it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning for talk of Finn in this chapter, plus some mentions of homophobia, but it’s very very minimal. Time for some feels. And then some FLUFF. The chapter’s title is based on “Alone And Sublime” by Mother Mother.

****

 

**Christmas Eve** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Radio silence.

Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in over a week. It had taken him a little over a day to notice the empty hole in his messages. It started as an itch in the back of his mind that something was missing. At first, sitting in the office in the early hours of the morning, he thought he’d forgotten something at home, but that wasn’t it. He checked and double checked his schedule, thinking the gap could’ve been an appointment he’d forgotten to log. But that wasn’t it, either.

It wasn’t until he was getting his morning coffee on the way to work, when he heard Blaine’s sultry voice over the intercom singing one of his songs on the radio, that he realized what was missing.

Blaine hadn’t replied to his message turning down breakfast. That was two nights ago. That wouldn’t be completely abnormal, except that there was nothing on Twitter, Instagram, or any of the other usual places that Blaine posted to on a near-daily basis. It was as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth.

He opened up his messages to type something friendly like  _ Good morning, sunshine _ , when all of a sudden ––

_ (he doesn’t want to talk to you.) _

The thought came out of nowhere. Kurt’s thumbs stilled on the screen. He’d turned Blaine down so many times now. Maybe Blaine had given up trying.

He put away his phone, picked up his coffee, and walked to the office.

For a week, there was nothing. Kurt had work to keep his mind occupied. Everything ramped up as Christmas approached, everyone working tirelessly before they took their vacations to see family and friends for the holiday. Initially, Kurt had planned to return home to spend Christmas with Burt and Carole, but as time slipped away, the amount of work to be done was too severe to risk leaving New York. He apologized to his father, cancelled his plane tickets, and resigned himself to a lonely holiday.

When Christmas Eve came around, Kurt was alone in the office, sewing decals onto Mercedes’ dress for the Grammys, blasting Christmas music to the empty room.

**@KEHummel tweeted:** Nothing like blasting “Let It Snow” to an empty office on Christmas Eve when no one is around to see you dance on the tables.

Only moments passed after sending the tweet when his phone’s ringtone exploded into the empty room, startling him. Kurt paused the music and scrambled to answer when he saw the name on the call display.

“Blaine?”

There was a pause. He heard Blaine’s intake of breath. “Are you really at the office on Christmas Eve?”

“Oh.” Blaine sounded so shocked that it made Kurt flush with embarrassment. He was glad Blaine wasn’t there to see it. “Yeah, I am. I originally planned to fly home for Christmas, but I’m swamped. I cancelled my flight. I’ll probably order Chinese food or something.”

There was a shuffle on the other end of the line. “Mind if I join you?”

Kurt slumped against the ground, heart pounding. “Aren’t you with family?”

“Nope. Cooper’s in LA, and my parents are in Ohio, and I didn’t want to deal with the Christmas rush at the airport.”

“Wow. I mean, I didn’t expect you of all people to spend Christmas alone.”

“Good thing I won’t be alone for much longer. I’ve got my coat on.”

“Blaine, you don’t have to––”

“I know. I want to. You can’t avoid me forever, Kurt, and nobody deserves to spend Christmas alone.”

Kurt stayed silent, not sure what to say. He couldn’t very well tell Blaine not to come, even though he looked a mess, had barely slept, and had piles of work to do. Maybe Blaine hadn’t given up on him, after all.

The line crackled. “I’ll take your silence as a yes. I’ll pick up the food on my way.”

 

* * *

About an hour later, Blaine rode the elevator up, up, up, to where he knew Kurt would be waiting. Over the past week, he had taken a step back from messaging Kurt. Self-doubt had crept into his mind, and he couldn’t shake it. So he kept his head down, focused on work, and put his confusing relationship with Kurt aside.

But finding out that Kurt was alone on Christmas––yes, he had notifications on for Kurt’s Twitter account, so he knew the moment the tweet had gone up––had spurred Blaine to break the silence. Regardless of what was going on between him and Kurt, he refused to let anyone spend Christmas alone. That was the only reason he was on his way up to the design studio.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

The elevator went  _ ding! _ and the doors slid open. What had once been a site of activity was eerily silent. As Blaine walked slowly through the office, arms full of take-out, it felt like stepping into a ghost town. Fabrics and work stations were abandoned and messy, as if everyone had vanished on the spot. 

_ Little Drummer Boy _ played over the loudspeaker as he walked, head swivelling back and forth, trying to find a sign of life.

“Kurt?” he called, stopping in the middle of the room.

A head poked out from the door of Kurt’s office. Blaine sighed with relief. “There you are.”

_ (horror movie scenario averted) _

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Kurt said, emerging from the office. As he came closer, Blaine saw how tired he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his usually stiff hairdo was wilting. Instead of his usual impressive outfits, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Blaine still thought he looked gorgeous, even under the circumstances.

Kurt looked down self-consciously. “If I’d known you were coming I would’ve worn something a bit more acceptable.”

Blaine smiled. “No need. You look great.” 

“That’s a lie, but it’s one I appreciate.”

Blaine set the bag of Chinese food on one of the work benches. “I hope you don’t mind me barging in on your peaceful night.”

“Not at all.” There was a pause, and then Kurt moved forward to hug him. Blaine relaxed in his embrace and wrapped his arms around him tightly. He had a distinctive smell of hairspray and fabric softener, with a hint of seasonal gingerbread soap. “Thanks for coming,” Kurt said quietly.

Against his will, Blaine pulled away. “My pleasure. Now, let’s get this party started, because I am  _ starving _ .”

He removed his coat while Kurt began moving furniture aside. It took Blaine a moment to realize that he was clearing a space on the floor. He watched curiously as Kurt brought over a large tartan roll of fabric from a supply closet and spread it out on the linoleum.

“Kurt Hummel, are we having a picnic?”

Kurt didn’t reply, just smiled and smoothed out a crease in the fabric. He sat down and beckoned for Blaine to join him, patting the blanket softly. Blaine went without hesitation, and took care to sit close enough that their knees were touching.

They broke into the take-out boxes and slipped into an easy conversation, catching up about what they were both up to over the past week. It felt normal, and Blaine was grateful that Kurt didn’t seem upset with him for being distant. Overhead, the playlist of Christmas songs continued. Every once in a while, Blaine could catch Kurt humming a few bars under his breath before falling silent to eat his meal.

The song switched to  _ Blue Christmas _ . Blaine sighed happily. “Ugh, I love this song,” he said.

“Really? It makes me sad,” Kurt said, turning his eyes downcast. He poked at his chow mein. “I remember my first Christmas without my mom. My dad played this song over and over. Every time I hear it, that’s all I can think about.”

Blaine’s hand came to rest on Kurt’s knee. He squeezed softly, hopefully in a way that came across as reassuring. “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “She’s been gone a long time now.” He sighed, and set aside his paper plate. “At least my dad won’t be alone this Christmas. He’s got my step-mom.”

Blaine kept his hand on Kurt’s knee. “You don’t talk about your family much,” he said. An invitation to talk, if Kurt wanted to.

“We’re not exactly the picture-perfect American family,” Kurt said. He let out a humourless laugh. “My mom died when I was younger, so it was just me and my dad, and we struggled a lot to connect. He was supportive, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t really know how to handle me being gay at first. And then he met Carole, and that was great, and for the first time, I had a brother…”

The way Kurt’s voice cracked on the word  _ brother _ broke Blaine’s heart into a million pieces. He started brushing his thumb back and forth on Kurt’s knee. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay, it’s just been a while. Finn died soon after we graduated, and it just… it changed everything. Just when we were starting to be a real family, he was taken away from us.” Kurt took a deep breath, and wiped a stray tear. “Going back to Ohio hurts too much. I have so many bad memories there.”

“Don’t feel guilty for it, Kurt. You have every right to stay in New York,” Blaine said. “Hell, I haven’t visited my parents in years. They weren’t supportive of my dreams, so I said screw ‘em.”

Kurt frowned. “But they’re your parents. At least you  _ have _ family.”

Blaine retracted his hand, as if stung. “I know that, Kurt. It’s not like I’m not grateful, but it’s hard being around people who you know don’t support your career. Or your sexuality. You said your dad had a hard time with it. Well, you’ve never met mine. You wanna know what he said last time I went home?”

“What?”

“He asked whether or not I’d be bringing a  _ girlfriend _ home at Thanksgiving.” The anger that Blaine always pushed aside came bubbling up. He clenched his fists and forced himself to breathe. “Just because I have family doesn’t mean I’m obligated to overlook their shitty opinions on my life.”

“I–I’m sorry, Blaine. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine.” Blaine stabbed at his kung pao chicken. “I’m just saying, there’s a reason I’m alone on Christmas, too.”

A hand closed over his, stilling his fork. He looked up to see Kurt’s face much closer, his watery eyes soft and warm. “You’re not alone now.” 

The last notes of  _ Blue Christmas _ faded, letting silence hang in the air. Blaine’s eyes flickered to Kurt’s lips, only inches away...

A familiar jingling sound broke the silence. Blaine grinned as he recognized  _ I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus _ . Kurt dropped his forehead onto Blaine’s shoulder, shaking with laughter. Blaine started singing softly, “What a laugh it would’ve been, if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night…” 

“You’re such a dork.” Kurt lifted his head and sat back, beginning to clear away the take-out boxes. 

“You haven’t seen the half of it.” Blaine got to his feet and bent over in a deep bow, outstretching a hand towards Kurt. “May I have this dance?”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt gave a dramatic pause, as if considering it very carefully, before answering, “Yes, you may.” 

Helping Kurt to his feet, Blaine didn’t hesitate to pull him close and wrap his arms around his waist. Kurt’s arms went around his neck, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It could have been the Antarctic outside, and that wouldn’t have stopped the heat that enveloped them as they stood close, swaying to the music.

Kurt rested his temple against Blaine’s, and Blaine closed his eyes, savouring his touch. It was an intimacy that went unmatched in Blaine’s past; yes, he’d had relationships, and yes, he’d had sex before, but all of that meant nothing compared to how it felt to be in Kurt’s arms, like this, just existing in each other’s space.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, swaying as the music shifted from song to song. It wasn’t until  _ Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree _ came on that Blaine stilled. “It’s kind of hard to slow dance to this song,” he whispered towards Kurt’s cheek, as if trying to bury a secret beneath his skin.

He felt, more than heard, Kurt’s soft laughter before he pulled back to see Blaine’s face. His hands trailed down to clasp Blaine’s, and he started shimmying in a more upbeat dance. Blaine went along with it as Kurt began to sing.

_ You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear _ _   
_ _ Voices singing let’s be jolly _

Blaine joined in as both of them yelled “ _ Deck the halls with boughs of holly! _ ” into the open space. They fell into bubbles of laughter. Blaine clutched his stomach and wiped a tear from his eye, only to dissolve to hysterics again when he saw the redness of Kurt’s face from laughing.

It took a few minutes for the giggles to subside. Blaine collapsed into a chair while Kurt curled up on his side on the tartan blanket, surrounded by boxes of Chinese food. Kurt mumbled something, and Blaine leaned in. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, best Christmas Eve ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving it a bit ambiguous, but rest assured, y'all will really enjoy the next chapter. I'm currently in a cottage in the English countryside, which is perfect for writing, so uploads will hopefully be more consistent. :)


	9. Call Out My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Day, and Kurt wakes up with something (someone) unexpected in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is based on the song by The Weeknd. (though I was listening to the Chlöe Howl version while writing this. Would definitely recommend giving it a listen!)

****

 

**Christmas Day** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Kurt opened his eyes to the ceiling of his apartment. Shreds of daylight peeked through the curtains, casting slivers of light onto the walls. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, frowning when he smelled a familiar raspberry scent––

A lump next to him squirmed.

Kurt froze as an arm snaked around his waist. A quiet, sleepy sigh sounded next to him. 

Blaine Anderson was in his bed.

_ (oh shit what have i done) _

It took a few disorienting moments for Kurt to reassure himself that no, they had not had sex, and yes, thank god, they were both fully clothed. The haze of sleep began to clear from his mind, and the events of the night came crawling back.

After their impromptu Christmas Eve dinner and dance, Blaine had helped Kurt tidy up and reset the studio. They retired to Kurt’s office where they talked and talked for the rest of the night until both were trying and failing to fend off sleep.

_ (“Guess I should head home,” Blaine had said, stifling a yawn. “God, is it already almost midnight?” _

_ “Time flies.” Kurt gnawed on his lip as he watched Blaine stand and put on his coat. “It’s cold out, you know. There might not be a lot of taxis out there on Christmas Eve.” _

_ “I can always take the subway. It probably won’t be too crowded, so I don’t think anyone would recognize me.” _

_ Kurt shot him a look like,  _ no you certainly are not doing that ridiculous thing.  _ “My apartment is within walking distance from here. You could just crash there.” _

_ Blaine paused, mid button, to glance at Kurt. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.” _

_ “Blaine, I’m offering. You look dead on your feet.”) _

Kurt looked over to the sleeping heap that was clutching his torso. Blaine’s curls had come loose in the night, and several were plastered to his scalp from where he’d slept on it. The plan had been to let Blaine crash on the couch, but when they got back, the heating had been low and both were shivering. He couldn’t very well leave Blaine with a thin blanket when he had a warm duvet on his bed.

So they fell asleep, backs to one another, on opposite sides of the bed. No goodnight kiss, no talk of what they were––a talk which was, in Kurt’s opinion, way overdue. 

Blaine shifted again and rolled over, leaving Kurt free to slide out of the bed. He pulled on a sweater and put on his slippers, and went to the kitchen.

The clock on the wall told him that it was nearly nine o’clock. Kurt turned on the coffee maker and started raiding the fridge, hoping Blaine was a heavy sleeper. He pulled out eggs, turkey bacon, scones, some fresh fruit, and got to work.

Maybe Kurt was a romantic, but he could only imagine how nice it would be to wake up on Christmas Day and have breakfast ready for you. Not that he and Blaine were romantic in any sense––one kiss and a slow dance didn’t mean anything, in the scheme of things. He set the oven on low and slid the cooked breakfast into the middle rack. When Blaine woke up, he wanted everything to still be warm.

He made himself busy by checking his phone. There were “Merry Christmas” messages from just about all his friends and family. He shot off a few replies, making sure to ask Burt and Carole if his presents had arrived in the mail. 

Footsteps sounded from the bedroom, and Kurt quickly put his phone away. He was just pulling the tray out of the oven when an adorably groggy Blaine appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You… made breakfast.” Blaine blinked at the array of foods on the breakfast table.

Kurt smiled and poured them both a cup of still-warm coffee. “You look surprised.”

“Impressed, more like it. You’re a morning person, huh?” He accepted the cup of coffee with a thankful smile as Kurt passed it over. Both sat down on opposite sides of the table.

Kurt started serving. “More than you, apparently.”

“This is amazing, Kurt.” Blaine’s eyes roamed over his plate, enraptured, as if afraid it might disappear any second. He looked up, their eyes meeting. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Kurt felt a blush creeping to his cheeks. He shrugged one shoulder. “Guess Santa thought you were good this year.”

Blaine’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah! Merry Christmas, Kurt.”

“Merry Christmas, Blaine. Now eat, please, because I am  _ starving. _ ”

Breakfast passed in relative silence, more due to their ravenous appetites than any awkwardness. A bubble of happiness was sitting in Kurt’s chest at the domesticity of it all. But there was still that little voice at the back of his head reminding him that the bubble could pop at any moment.

Once their mugs were nothing but dregs and their plates only crumbs, Kurt gathered the dishes and placed them in the sink. When he turned around, he wasn’t expecting Blaine to be standing right behind him; he jumped slightly, with a sharp intake of breath, as Blaine placed his hands on the counter on either side of his hips.

“You’re amazing,” Blaine murmured, eyes on Kurt’s lips.

“It’s just breakfast, Blaine.”

“No, it’s not.” 

For the second time, Blaine was the one to surprise Kurt by closing the distance between them. Pressing his body flush to Kurt’s against the counter, their lips met sweetly, the taste of coffee still on their tongues. Kurt’s eyes fluttered shut and he lost himself to the feeling of Blaine, the way they fit together perfectly, like all of his life had just been an excuse to get to this moment.

Their noses bumped uncomfortably, but Kurt didn’t notice. He tilted his head, trying anything to get closer to Blaine, to deepen the kiss and lose himself even more. His lungs tightened, but he didn’t dare come up for air. He would rather die kissing Blaine than end the moment before it had even begun.

“I’m crazy about you,” Blaine said against his mouth. His lips drifted across Kurt’s jaw, peppering him with kisses down to his neck. Kurt’s hands moved to the small of Blaine’s back and tugged at the hem of his shirt, wanting more than anything to feel the skin underneath.

A breathy sigh escaped him as Blaine melted to his neck. Kurt’s skin turned to goosebumps and he shivered involuntarily.

_ (god he’s trying to give me a hickey) _

The thought jolted Kurt back to reality. “Blaine,” he choked out, moving to grip Blaine’s biceps harshly. Blaine must have thought it was an expression of encouragement, because he nipped Kurt’s neck, which only made panic flash through Kurt’s mind. “ _ Blaine _ ,” he said, this time more forcefully.

Blaine lifted his head, eyes blown wide. “I-I’m sorry, Kurt, I shouldn’t have––”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Kurt placed a hand on Blaine’s chest. He felt Blaine’s heart beating a mile a minute. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “I just… don’t want things to get out of hand.”

“Oh.” Blaine sagged against him, glancing away as if embarrassed.

“I just think… maybe we could… talk about this?” Kurt asked. He placed a finger under Blaine’s chin and lifted it so that he could meet his eyes. “We’ll just cool off, and… talk.”

“Right. Talk.”

Blaine stepped back. “Do you mind if I, um, take a shower first? So that I look presentable when we… talk.”

Kurt nodded. “There’s extra towels in the, um…” His eyes fell on Blaine’s swollen lips, and he stuttered before forcing himself to look back at Blaine’s face. “The… the, the bathroom cupboard. Towels in the cupboard. I’m going to go get dressed.”

He rushed back to the bedroom before he had the chance for second thoughts about letting Blaine slip through his fingers, even for a few moments.

 

* * *

Blaine turned on the water and mechanically undressed for what he hoped would be the fastest shower of his life. He looked down, half-hard as he stepped into the cold water, willing himself to put all thoughts of Kurt out of his mind so that he could be presentable for their  _ talk _ .

Kissing Kurt like that, being close to him, made Blaine the most turned on he’d been in a long time, and he had to admit to himself that it was for the best that Kurt had stopped him before things got out of hand. Being with Kurt was like being under a spell, intoxicated by his body, his touch, his voice, his  _ everything _ .

_ (well thinking about that is not helping with the dick situation) _

Blaine made the water colder. Shivering, he rinsed his hair, loosening it from the gel he’d worn the night before. A constant stream of  _ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck _ spilled from his mouth, like a mantra to brave the cold, until finally his hard-on went away. It would’ve been less painful to just deal with it quickly instead of forcing it away, but Blaine had boundaries. He didn’t want to do that in Kurt’s shower.

_ (oh god he showers in here too. he showers here naked) _

Blaine shut off the water and grabbed a spare towel from the cupboard before those thoughts could go any further. He took his time towelling himself dry, mind spinning with apprehension. He’d left the kitchen with hope in his chest, because Kurt wanted to talk, and that was a good thing, right? They could establish what they meant to each other, and if that went well, Blaine would kiss him with everything he had and this time Kurt wouldn’t be able to say no.

But now, with less hormones pumping through his body to his dick, Blaine was having second thoughts. Maybe something he’d done, something he’d said, had put Kurt off. He’d run back to the bedroom in an awful rush. Maybe he wanted to talk just to say  _ I like kissing you but I don’t want to date you _ . Maybe he was letting Blaine down gently. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Just as Blaine was trying to determine if he could fit through the bathroom window and survive the three-storey fall to the street, there was a knock on the door.

“Blaine? You okay in there?”

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“I have some clean clothes for you.”

Blaine wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door a crack. Kurt stood on the other side, clutching a bundle of clothes in his hands. “Thanks,” Blaine said quietly, hiding his body behind the door as he reached through the take the bundle. Their fingers brushed amid the transfer, and a thrill went up Blaine’s spine. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, and shut the door.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Kurt was curled up on his couch, a cup of tea in his hands, holding it like a lifeline. Another cup of tea sat on the coffee table.

“I didn’t know if you liked tea, but…” Kurt shrugged. Then he gestured to the couch. “You can sit down.”

Blaine didn’t miss the way Kurt’s eyes raked over him as he got comfortable on the sofa. It was strange, being in another man’s clothes. He and Kurt weren’t too far apart in height, but the shirt was a tad long, and he’d tucked it into Kurt’s pants, which he also had to roll up at the ankles and fasten with a belt to fit his narrow hips. He felt like a child playing dress-up, not a grown man about to have a serious conversation.

“Kurt, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

Kurt frowned, and absently bobbed his teabag up and down. “Wrong? What do you mean?”

“I thought… maybe I pushed a little too hard, or something.” All the times that they had kissed, it was Blaine who initiated it. He hadn’t given Kurt a chance to say no. 

“No, Blaine. You didn’t push me into anything, if that’s what you mean.” Kurt smiled softly. “I… I liked it. But I’m also confused, because I don’t know what  _ it _ is. Like, do you want to be friends? Boyfriends? Fuck buddies?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Blaine said, laughing a little. “I really hope that me kissing you didn’t come across as just trying to get into your pants.” He looked down at the pants he wore that weren’t his, decided it wasn’t the time to make that joke.

“No, I––that came out wrong,” Kurt said. So far, it seemed that neither of them had said anything that came out  _ right _ . “I just mean that before we…  _ do _ anything––” Blaine could see that Kurt was trying very, very hard not to blush, “––that we should talk about what we’re looking for.”

Blaine nodded slowly, and fiddled with the frayed corner of one of Kurt’s throw pillows. “Kurt, I know that being in the public eye has a big effect on… well, everything. I haven’t been with anyone or dated many guys since people started taking notice of me. Things get messy.”

“So you don’t want to date,” said Kurt flatly.

“No! That’s not it at all,” Blaine said in a rush. He scooted closer to Kurt and took the mug from him. He placed it on the coffee table and grabbed Kurt’s hands, which were warm from the tea. “I really,  _ really _ like you, Kurt. Spending time with you makes my day. You inspire me, Kurt. Before I met you, I hadn’t been able to write a song in forever. And then, there you were, and you changed everything.”

Kurt was watching him with wide eyes, his gaze flickering across Blaine’s face as if trying to memorize every inch of him. “You wrote a song about me?” he asked.

Blaine laughed. “That’s all you got from that?” he asked.

“No.” Kurt squeezed his hands. “I get it. Relationship stuff is hard enough without the world watching your every movement. When that picture of us getting coffee came out, I was terrified. Not because I was afraid to be seen with you, but because having other people see a part of my life that I want to keep private is scary.”

“I know.”

“It’s like high school all over again. I could deal with other students whispering about me in the halls, but now it’s the whole world out there. And they have Twitter.”

Blaine nodded in understanding. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Blaine brushed his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles in a soothing rhythm. He could feel Kurt’s heartbeat through his fingertips, a rapid drumming that matched his own.

Finally, Kurt spoke. “It says a lot about you that you’ve thought so hard about this.”

Blaine shrugged. “I’ve seen what fame and bad press does to people. I would never want anybody to run into trouble because of being with me.”

“Something tells me you’re worth it.” A soft smile met Kurt’s features, and he lifted a hand to fix a curl that had fallen out of place on Blaine’s head. 

“Does that mean…?”

“Blaine Anderson, would you like to go out on a real, proper date with m––” Before the sentence was out of his mouth, Blaine’s lips were on his, drawing him close. Kurt kissed him back with vigour, not afraid now of empty promises and false hopes. The answer was a clear, resounding  _ yes _ , and Kurt was going to savour every moment of it. 


	10. Run Away With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Eve. Time for Kurt and Blaine to make their first public appearance as an official couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was about to upload this chapter I realized this fic has hit over 700 hits! Thanks so much for all of the wonderful comments and kudos. Your support means everything to me! 
> 
> This chapter title brought to you by the seminal classic “Run Away With Me” by Carly Rae Jepsen. It makes an appearance in this chapter. Strap in, because this is a longer one.

****

 

 **New Year’s Eve** **  
** **NYC, New York**

“We’re in New York City, on New Year’s Eve, and you’re telling me we’re _not_ going to Times Square?”

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder, and stared at their reflection in the full-length mirror. “That’s right,” he said.

“You’re wrinkling my shirt.”

Blaine dropped a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder and backed away, retreating to the edge of Kurt’s bed to watch him get ready. “I would’ve thought you’d prefer to go to a party instead of being out in the cold with a billion people,” he said.

“I do, but still, _when in Rome…_ ” Kurt began tying a colourful cravat around his neck. Blaine bit his lip as he realized he was doing it to cover up a hickey that Blaine had left in a not-so-subtle location.

“Hey, we can still go if you want to.”

“But then I’d have to share you with everyone,” Kurt said. He turned towards Blaine and crossed the room to the bed, leaning over to give him a lingering kiss. Blaine slipped a hand into Kurt’s back pocket, preparing to pull him down onto the bed––

Kurt pulled away, and their lips parted with a loud _smack_. “Nuh-uh, mister. We have to get going, or we’ll be late.”

“Come on, kiss me. Nobody cares if we show up late.”

“I care.” Kurt straightened up and gingerly plucked Blaine’s hand from his pocket. “This is our first time going out together in public. I want to make an impression.”

_(in those pants you certainly will)_

In the few days between Christmas and New Year’s, Blaine had spent nearly every moment at Kurt’s apartment. He knew Sam was out of town, visiting his family for the holidays, but he still didn’t trust his friend not to make a surprise visit at Blaine’s apartment, and he wanted all of the privacy with Kurt that he could get.

It turned out that Kurt’s idea of going on a date in the dead of winter in New York City had been cooking dinner for Blaine (who had been pleasantly surprised to find out Kurt was a wonderful cook) and then curling up on the couch to watch a classic Christmas movie (they debated forever between _It’s A Wonderful Life_ ––Kurt’s choice––and _Love, Actually_ ––Blaine’s choice––before Blaine won over by convincing him that it was more poignant to double up with a romance film). The night ended with a makeout session on Kurt’s couch in which their hands stayed well above the waist.

Truthfully, Blaine would have ripped the clothes off of Kurt right then and there, but something held him back. There was a fear in the back of his mind that if they forgot all reservations, they would do something they would regret and things would get messy. More than anything, he didn’t want to mess up what he had with Kurt. Kurt was unlike anyone he had met since becoming a part of the music industry. He was honest, kind, sensitive, and his eyes crinkled up at the edges when he laughed…

“Why are you staring at me?” Kurt said, cocking his hip as he looked down at Blaine, like a parent scolding their child.

“Because you’re amazing, and I’m lucky to have you on my arm tonight.” Blaine stood and kissed him, short but sweet, and hummed with satisfaction when Kurt wrapped a hand around his neck to kiss him again. If there was one thing that Blaine would never get tired of, it was kissing Kurt Hummel.

It took several failed attempts to leave the apartment before they finally made it to the car. The first time, they got halfway downstairs before Kurt realized he’d forgotten his wallet. The second time, Blaine forgot his phone. The third, Blaine was adjusting Kurt’s scarf when Kurt suddenly kissed him, pressed him up against the door, and both of them thoroughly forgot that they had somewhere else to be.

By the time they pulled up to the venue, they were over an hour late.

Blaine was about to open the door when he felt a hand on his knee. His fingers paused on the handle, and he turned to look at Kurt who, despite the heating that was being pumped through the car, was shivering.

Blaine took his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“If people ask what we are…” Kurt’s face was inlaid with uncertainty. Blaine longed to reach over and swipe the forehead creases away with his thumb, and take away his worries.

Instead, he squeezed his hand and smiled softly. “I will tell them you’re my incredibly hot, incredibly amazing date, and if they think they’re stealing you away from me to dance for even a minute, they’re very wrong.” Lifting Kurt’s hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Let’s end this year with a bang, okay?”

The smile he got in return made Blaine’s heart swell. Suddenly, he felt like the luckiest guy on the planet.

_(you’re not even boyfriends yet play it cool)_

Not letting go of Kurt’s hand for a single moment, they made their way inside where the party was already in full swing. If there was one thing that celebrities did right, it was throw incredible parties. They checked their coats––because celebrity parties were bougie enough to have coat checks––and wormed their way through the crowd.

“Want a drink?” Blaine asked, raising his voice over the loud music.

“Desperately.”

Blaine grinned and pulled him over to the bar. A familiar face was already there, berating the bartender. “Unique ordered a triple, and this is definitely _not_ a triple!” Blaine tapped her shoulder, and Unique swung around, the effects of the drinks already swimming in her eyes. “You better have a good reason for being late!”

“Unique, you remember Kurt.”

Blaine nudged his date, and Unique’s eyes widened. She clapped her hands rapidly. “Yes! Your sins are forgiven, honey, because he is a treat. Let Unique buy you both a drink.”

As she turned to wave to the bartender, Kurt leaned into him and whispered, “Does she always do that third-person thing?”

Blaine chuckled. “It only gets worse the more drinks she has. Hey, Unique, who else is here tonight?”

Unique cocked her hip and pursed her lips as she considered the question. “I saw Marley earlier, and Sam––”

“He’s supposed to be in Ohio!”

“He can’t resist a good party.” Unique’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right! He said he needed to be here because that guy Sebastian Smythe was going to make an appearance.”

“Who’s Sebastian Smythe?” Kurt asked, murmuring a thank-you as Unique handed over their drinks.

“He’s a photographer! He’s been around a few years. Does some killer photoshoots. He’s got a good eye, and Sam wanted to get in his good books. I haven’t seen him yet, though.”

A finger tapped Blaine’s shoulder, and he turned to see a familiar face grinning down at him. Suppressing an eyeroll, he said, “Hey, Cooper.”

“Well, now, don’t be _too_ excited to see me!” Cooper pulled him into a rough hug, and, much to Blaine’s chagrin, ended up severing his hold on Kurt’s hand. Blaine reluctantly returned the hug. “And this is your buddy Kurt, right?” Cooper’s eyes flickered between Kurt and Blaine, back and forth, until Blaine could practically see the light bulb above his head. “Oh, so _Kurt_ is the guy!”

“Coop, _shut up_.”

Cooper lunged at Kurt and embraced him tightly. If Blaine wasn’t so annoyed, he would have laughed at the pure shock on Kurt’s face. The drink in his hand sloshed as Cooper pulled back. “Hey, man, it’s good to finally put a face to the guy Blainey’s been gushing about.”

“Hold up, are you two _together-together_?” Unique asked.

“Yes, Kurt is my date,” Blaine said, reaching over to take his hand again. “Now if you two would stop ogling, we could enjoy the party.”

“Just trying to welcome Kurt to the family, squirt.”

“Can you mind your own business for _one night_ , Cooper?” Blaine took a generous drink from his glass and set it down on the bar. “Come on, Kurt.”

Not saying a word, Kurt followed him away from the bar, up a set of stairs to a seating area that overlooked the floor below. It was blissfully vacant, as most people seemed to be dancing on the main level or at the bar, though a consistent stream of party guests drifted past them, laughing, dancing, or singing with their friends.

Side by side, thighs and shoulders pressed together on the couch, Kurt’s thumb stroked soothingly over his knuckles. “I’ve seen you talk to your brother twice now,” Kurt said. He was sitting close enough that Blaine could hear him easily, even speaking in a low tone. “You always get into a bad mood when he’s around. Why is that?”

Blaine sighed. “He’s just… he’s a lot. I love Cooper, but he makes a big deal out of _everything_. The word ‘subtlety’ isn’t even in his vocabulary.”

“He clearly loves you a lot. We knew people were going to react to us coming here together. Let’s just be grateful they’re enthusiastic and not… well, shitty about it.”

Blaine turned his head, meeting Kurt’s eyes that swirled with the pinks and blues and purples of the party lights. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Kurt, still holding his drink, finished it off and set it aside. “Parties aren’t usually my thing, but for some reason I feel like going all out tonight.”

“Could it have something to do with being the centre of attention, since you love that so much?”

“Don’t get smart with me, Blaine.” Kurt reached over to tap his nose. “I want to do shots,” he announced, launching to his feet. “You wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

Not giving him any time to respond, Kurt left with a brief, parting kiss on the cheek that left Blaine wanting for more. Instead, he watched Kurt descend the stairs back to the bar, contentment swelling in his chest. It hadn’t even been a week since they had that talk at Kurt’s apartment about what they wanted to be––or at least try to be––and Blaine was already hearing wedding bells every time he looked at Kurt.

A thin frame slid into view, interrupting his daydreams, and Blaine looked up to see an unfamiliar face looking down at him. “Hi, there. Blaine, right?” His voice was smooth, and the intensity in his eyes made Blaine feel as if he was under an x-ray.

The man sat down where Kurt had sat just a few moments ago. Blaine smiled politely. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Sebastian Smythe.” The man extended his hand, though he didn’t have to reach far; he sat in close proximity to Blaine, a bit closer than Blaine would have liked. He chalked it up to just trying to converse over the din of the party and shook the man’s hand.

“You’re a photographer, right?” Blaine asked, suddenly glad that Unique had mentioned the name. He always hated when people knew his name and he didn’t know theirs.

Sebastian smiled, looking impressed. “So, you’ve heard of me. I saw you sitting here all alone and thought I should come introduce myself.”

That struck Blaine as odd, considering Kurt had only been gone about a minute before Sebastian approached. The pinkish glow of the lights fluttered over Sebastian’s face. Where the lights had made Kurt beautiful, Sebastian just looked… _predatory_.

Blaine couldn’t think of anything to say. He glanced towards the stairs, but Kurt was nowhere in sight. Sebastian’s knee bumped his, and he reflexively flinched, so minute that, thankfully, Sebastian didn’t seem to notice.

“I have to say, Blaine, you’re far more impressive in person. The photos and videos don’t do you justice. I’ve been dying to see if I could book you for a shoot.”

“Thanks, I’m… flattered.” Blaine looked out over the balcony and saw a familiar coiff of brown hair by the bar. Kurt was chatting with Cooper, and seemed to be enjoying himself.

“So what do you think?” Blaine looked back at Sebastian. The determination in his eyes was unsettling. “I think I could take some photos of you that would show the world a whole different side of Blaine Anderson.”

“Oh, that’s… kind of you to offer, Sebastian, but I’d have to talk to my agent first.” Blaine had no intention of doing such a thing.

“Ah, playing hard to get. That just makes the chase more fun.”

_(who does this guy think he is?)_

“I take professionalism pretty seriously,” Blaine said, his annoyance starting to show. “I’m not in the business of handing out my number to just anybody.”

A fresh, lilting voice chimed in. “Who’s getting whose number?”

Relief flooded Blaine at the sound of Kurt’s voice. Kurt was holding a handful of shot glasses, two for each of them. Perfect timing. Sebastian snorted and looked at Blaine, clearly not realizing they were together. “Did you order shots?” he asked.

“No, but my date did.” Blaine took relish in the way Sebastian’s smile wavered. “Sebastian, this is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, Sebastian Smythe.”

Kurt set down the shots on the coffee table in front of them and slid gracefully between Blaine and Sebastian, forcing Sebastian to shuffle over. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” Kurt said. His tone was so forcefully cheery that Blaine couldn’t help smiling. Kurt’s hand went to Blaine’s knee, radiating his body heat through his jeans. Every time Kurt touched him, Blaine felt as if there was a time bomb ticking away under his skin, ready to burst.

“I don’t suppose one of those shots is up for grabs?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of finding someone to buy you one,” Kurt said. He lifted two of the glasses and handed one to Blaine. “To us.”

“To us,” Blaine echoed. They clinked their glasses and then Blaine tossed his head back, letting the burning sensation slide down his throat and into his gut. The acrid taste of tequila filled his senses, and he grimaced.

“I’ll keep in touch, Blaine.” Sebastian stood and gave him a lingering look before disappearing into the crowd. Blaine sighed with relief.

“What a creep,” Kurt said, reaching for his second shot.

“You sure handled him,” Blaine said, wanting nothing more than to show Kurt how grateful he was. Kurt knocked back the second shot, coughed, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“That is disgusting.”

“But worth it.” Blaine had his second shot, and strangely, it went down easier than the first.

“That Sebastian guy was all over you.”

“I was legitimately ready to jump over this railing,” Blaine said, nodding to the bannister that divided the balcony from the dance floor below. “Until you saved me. My knight in shining armour.”

“I am pretty amazing.”

“You are.” Swept up in the exhilaration of the party and the shots and Kurt’s unbearably sexy protectiveness, Blaine wrapped his fingers around his neck and pressed their lips together. He didn’t care that they were in public. He felt a hand on the small of his back, drawing him closer on the couch, and heat surged through Blaine’s body, pooling in his stomach like the tequila and threatening to set him on fire.

God, they were making out at a _party_ . It felt so juvenile, and yet Blaine didn’t care. Forget the party guests, forget the inevitable social media spree if anyone caught a picture, forget everything because Kurt was _his_.

Blaine broke away first. He leaned his forehead on Kurt’s, soaking in his proximity. “Dance with me. I want to show everybody you’re mine.”

Kurt didn’t have to be told twice. They descended to the dance floor, hands clasped together in an iron grip. Kurt’s arms looped around his neck, and Blaine snaked his hands around his hips as they moved to the beat of Carly Rae Jepsen.

 _You're stuck in my head, stuck on my heart, stuck on my body, body_ _  
_ _I wanna go, get out of here, I'm sick of the party, party_

It was like dancing at the Halloween party, but different. So much had changed in the past two months, and Blaine didn’t fear that Kurt would pull away this time.

 _Baby, take me to the feeling_  
_I'll be your sinner, in secret_ _  
_ When the lights go out

Other bodies brushed him as they danced, but all he could feel was Kurt. The air thickened with the heat of bodies, breath, and booze, but for the first time in a long time, Blaine felt like he was drinking in fresh air.

 _Run away with me_ _  
_ _Run away with me_

 

* * *

 

Kurt’s head buzzed with tequila. He swayed on his feet as he stumbled into the bathroom. Squinting against the bright linoleum, he did his business and then leaned against the sink, drained of energy.

Something had come over him, seeing Sebastian Smythe flirting with Blaine. Something primal. Kurt had never considered himself a jealous person, but then again, it had been a long time since he’d been in a relationship.

_(slow down he’s not even your boyfriend)_

If the party had convinced Kurt of anything, it was that he and Blaine just _clicked_. The past six days since Christmas had been filled with plenty of alone time for him and Blaine, but being out in public was different. He felt the stares; he was used to them. But for the first time, being under a magnifying glass didn’t scare him.

In a tipsy haze, he did his best to fix his hair and make sure he looked presentable. A little disheveled, maybe, but still attractive. Hopefully attractive enough to please Blaine. He twisted around, checking his ass in the mirror, smiling smugly when he saw how his pants clung to his figure.

The door to the bathroom swung open. One glance, and Kurt’s mood quickly soured.

Sebastian smirked––a real, smarmy sneer––and let the door swing shut behind him. “Kurt.”

“Sebastian.” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. He watched as Sebastian walked to the urinals, and confidently went about his business. Kurt rolled his eyes. _Power move_.

“Funny, I thought the ladies’ room was next door,” Sebastian said.

“Cute joke. Where’d you get it, a bubble gum wrapper?”

He heart the tell-tale sound of a zipper, and then Sebastian turned to him. “Speaking of jokes, where did you learn your dance moves?”

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you.”

“Fun. I don’t like you, either.”

“So what exactly do you want, Sebastian?” he said. _Cut the crap_ , was what he wanted to say.

“I thought that was obvious.” Sebastian crossed to the sinks. Instead of picking one of the many options that were out of Kurt’s way, he nudged Kurt aside to use the one in front of him.

“Blaine isn’t interested in you.”

“I think I’ll let Blaine decide that.” Sebastian shut off the water and shook his hands dry. A generous amount of water landed on Kurt’s shirt, and he clenched his jaw. “Oops.” Brushing past him, Sebastian didn’t look back as he left the bathroom.

The din of the party filtered in through the door briefly before dipping back to a muffled hum. Kurt took a few deep breaths. He wasn’t a violent person, but punching something would have felt very, _very_ good in that moment.

He checked the time on his phone. _11:32._ There were twenty-eight minutes left in the year.

He’d be damned if he didn’t spend those last twenty-eight minutes in Blaine’s arms.

 

* * *

 

People gravitated to the outdoor patio as the clock crept closer to midnight. Once Kurt returned from the bathroom, Blaine noticed a new surge of energy within him. He wanted to ask if something had happened, but instead decided to go along for the ride, afraid of upsetting Kurt so close to the turn of the new year.

At five minutes to midnight, they went to the outdoor patio. White flakes floated gently around them, bringing brisk winds. Blaine wrapped himself around Kurt to keep them both warm, and nuzzled his face into Kurt’s neck. “You smell nice,” he murmured.

“You’re drunk,” Kurt said with a giggle.

“No _you’re_ drunk.”

“We can both be drunk.”

“Okay.” Blaine lifted his head and rested his chin on the slope of Kurt’s shoulder. Through the crowd, he caught sight of a familiar figure pushing through the people. He easily recognized Sam, making his way towards them. Reluctantly, he slid away from Kurt to embrace his friend. “Hey! Hey, man, my buddy, my Sam.”

“Yo, dude, you reek!” Sam laughed and ruffled Blaine’s curls, which had loosened over the course of the night.

“I am absolutely sweating tequila right now,” Blaine said.

“Hi, Sam.”

Blaine gasped when he remembered Kurt was there. He went to clutch Kurt’s arm. “Sam, Kurt’s here! He’s my date! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Good to see you again, Kurt.” Sam’s eyes flickered between them, his smile growing. “Upright, I mean.”

Kurt groaned and buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine kicked out his leg, aiming for Sam’s shin, and missed by a mile as his friend simply sidestepped the attack. “Don’t embarrass me, Sammy.”

“That’s my job, dude!”

The din rose around them and Blaine heard whispers of _one minute to go!_ His heart sped up in his chest. The dawn of a new year. He shivered and pressed closer to Kurt. Vaguely, he noted someone snap a picture from a few metres away. Blaine turned away from the lens, and lifted Kurt’s chin to look him in the eye. “You better be kissing me at midnight, Kurt Hummel.”

“Try to stop me.”

“You guys are gross,” Sam said.

“Hey.” Blaine lifted a finger at Sam, giving him a stern look. “Let us have our honeymoon phase. We’ll be a boring old couple before you know it.”

When he turned back to Kurt, he saw a mix of joy and surprise in his eyes. “Does that mean… we’re a couple?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

_“10, 9, 8, 7…”_

Blaine’s eyes flickered to his lips, nerves thrumming through his veins.

_“6, 5, 4…”_

“I’d love nothing more.”

_“3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!”_

Cheers erupted in the bitter winter air. Champagne bottles popped. Blaine closed the distance between them, wrapping Kurt close to him to the bang of fireworks overhead. Echoes of the explosions went off under Blaine’s skin as he drew Kurt closer, not wanting the moment to ever end.

In a fluid motion that was much too graceful for his state of drunkenness, Kurt’s hand wrapped around his back and then Blaine was being dipped, lying parallel to the night sky in Kurt’s arms, without ever breaking the kiss. He felt Kurt’s lips turn up into a smile and a bubble of laughter spilled from Blaine’s mouth.

He opened his eyes, startled to see Kurt’s face framed by the stars over their heads, blinking down at him, snowflakes landing in his hair. It could have been well below zero, and Blaine wouldn’t have noticed. All he saw was Kurt.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year, Blaine.”


	11. Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are already hectic as Kurt prepares Blaine's suit for the Grammys. And then Blaine asks him an unexpected question.

****

 

 **January** **  
** **NYC, New York**

“Don’t you think this is going a little fast?”

Kurt straightened his back, realizing how hunched over the desk he’d become. The sewing needle shook in his hand as he glanced over at Rachel, who was examining her phone screen on one of his office chairs. She’d been there for over an hour already, going through every single photo of Kurt and Blaine from the New Year’s Eve party that she could find. Each time she found a new one, she’d hold out her phone to show him, and then would analyze it. He’d gotten extremely good at tuning her out.

He’d asked her numerous times to leave him alone––with the turn of the new year, the office was in a frenzy to finish up all of the dresses and suits that had been commissioned for the Grammys. He’d barely slept, was on his fourth cup of coffee, and he hadn’t seen Blaine since New Year’s Day. His mood was beyond sour.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Rachel,” he snapped, returning to the material in his hands. Why had he chosen to use chiffon?

“I just mean, you barely know the guy,” Rachel said. She swiped her screen and gasped. “Kurt, how are you not worried about these pictures?!”

In reality, when he’d first seen the images, his thoughts had been, in this order:

  1. Oh no, my dad’s going to see these.
  2. Oh God, the whole internet is going to see these.
  3. But damn, we look hot.



After the third thought had crossed his mind, Kurt’s anxiety had eased, because who cared that people would see? He was confident with his feelings for Blaine. He was confident with Blaine’s feelings for him. He knew that kissing Blaine was like putting a bandage on everything wrong with his life, and talking to Blaine was less like getting to know someone and more like remembering someone from a past life.

“You went on, like, two dates before he asked you to be a couple?” Rachel went on. “Don’t you feel even a little suspicious? Like, maybe he’s using you for publicity or something?”

“Shit!” Kurt yelped as the needle slipped and punctured his thumb. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, heart pounding with shock and also _anger_ , because how dare Rachel say that about Blaine? “He’s not like that, Rachel! He’s a good guy.”

“How would you know?” Rachel asked, standing up to retrieve the first-aid kit she knew Kurt kept in his desk. She offered it to him, and Kurt snatched it from her hands.

“Because I just do. You don’t get it, Rach. Blaine and I talked for a long time before we decided to do anything. We’re on the same page. About publicity, about taking things slow, about… well, everything.” He dabbed antibiotic cream on his thumb and then wrapped it in a band-aid.

“All I’m saying is that you have to be careful, Kurt.”

“I am.” He rolled his eyes. “Now can you leave before this needle ends up in your eye?”

Rachel gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek before she finally left. Kurt knew he hadn’t convinced her. He hadn’t even spoken to his dad about Blaine yet, which was going to be even harder. If he couldn’t convince Rachel, who had met Blaine, it was going to be a hell of a time assuring Burt Hummel that dating someone in the public eye wasn’t going to end in disaster.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. It was only five days until the Grammys, and Kurt still hadn’t brought Blaine in for a fitting. At six o’clock, he whipped out his phone and shot a quick message.

 **Kurt:** Come to my office. Now.  
**Blaine:** Oh? ;)  
**Kurt:** For business.  
**Blaine:** Hmmmm, “business” huh?  
**Kurt:** NO TIME FOR SHENANIGANS, ANDERSON. GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE FOR A FITTING.  
**Blaine:** Omw. xo

 

* * *

 

A knock came at the door of Kurt’s office. He lifted his head, and immediately broke into a smile at the sight of Blaine standing there, managing to look handsome even in just a polo shirt and jeans.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hi.” Kurt beckoned him inside the office and moved around the desk towards him, receiving a quick peck on the cheek before closing the door.

“You’ve been busy,” Blaine said, eyes wide at the catastrophe that was Kurt’s office. Fabrics, needles and thread littered the room. A pool of sparkles was caked to the floor where Brittany had dropped a glittery paste earlier.

“Grammys,” was all Kurt said in response. He didn’t stop moving, routing his way to the closet in the back corner where he was keeping the finished suits and dresses until they were picked up. He didn’t trust them out in the general office space, where they were at the mercy of Brittany’s glitter-related accidents. “Strip, please.”

To his credit, Blaine didn’t make a dirty joke at the order. He must have sensed Kurt’s stress, because he did as he was told without saying a word. In any other circumstance, Kurt might have taken the opportunity to enjoy the view. He kept his eyes averted, determined to minimize distractions, and pulled out Blaine’s suit, which was concealed by a garment bag.

Kurt handed the suit pieces to Blaine one by one. He started with the black, silk dress shirt, allowing Blaine to take his time buttoning it. Nerves spiked in his fingertips when he reached into the bag to pull out the dress pants.

[The pants and suit jacket matched. Both were black, inlaid with a subtle silver diamond pattern. The design was accented with gold streaks along the thighs and chest area, with an appearance like fire licking up the material.](https://img.ecartelera.com/img/100900/100985_darren-criss-alfombra-roja-emmys-2018.jpg)

He heard Blaine’s sharp intake of breath as he pulled on the jacket. “Kurt, this is stunning.”

Kurt suppressed his proud smile. “Thank you. Now, because I know you like bowties, I do have something special to top it off.” He pulled out a black bowtie, made of an inky silk to match the dress shirt.

He took the liberty of tying the bowtie for Blaine. He lifted the collar, and with deft fingers, arranged it in place so it sat at the base of Blaine’s throat. He finished it off and took Blaine’s chin in his hand. “You look very dapper, sir.”

Blaine turned to the full-length mirror in the corner, speechless as he looked at himself in the suit. Kurt watched him examining himself, leaning against his desk and taking the moment to admire his work. He had worked on Blaine’s more than anyone else’s.

“You’ll be the beau of the ball.”

“It’s incredible.” Blaine turned and crossed the room to him. He took both of Kurt’s hands in his own. “I want you there with me,” he said.

Kurt blinked. “You want me to… go to the Grammys with you?” he said slowly.

“Yes. I want you as my date.”

“I–I… But…”

A crease formed between Blaine’s eyebrows. “You don’t want to?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting to.” Panic flared in his chest. “I’d have nothing to wear!”

Blaine laughed. “Of course that’s what you’re worried about,” he teased. “You could wear a paper bag and you’d still be the hottest guy there. I would be honoured to take you as my date.”

Kurt found himself nodding. “I suppose I have something I could make work for the occasion…” He shook his head. “Hold on, I’m getting carried away. I still have to make sure your suit is perfect.”

Blaine stepped back, and gave a twirl. “Isn’t it?”

Kurt spent a few minutes examining every thread, every stitch. He decided to take up the sleeves a quarter inch, among a few other minor adjustments, but otherwise, it _was_ perfect. _Blaine_ was perfect.

When Blaine was back in his street clothes, Kurt set aside the suit to make adjustments and returned to his desk. “Thanks for coming all this way, Blaine,” he said.

“Of course.” Blaine shifted his feet where he stood in the centre of the room. “So… should I leave?”

“Oh. I mean, I can’t leave yet because I still have a lot of work to do.”

Blaine’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together. “Let me help! I can be your assistant for the night.”

Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes. “As adorable as that is, and as much as I appreciate the help, you have a flight to catch.”

Blaine deflated. “You’re right. I still haven’t packed.”

“Then go!”

“Alright, alright.” He leaned over the desk and pressed their lips together briefly. The familiarity of it lightened Kurt’s mood right away. “You will come to LA, right?”

Kurt nodded, already shuffling around his schedule in his head. “I should be able to finish up everything in about three days. I’ll get my assistant to book the flight––not Brittany, she’d probably end up sending me to Madagascar or something––and I’ll bring your suit with me.”

“You’re adorable when you get all business-y.” Blaine leaned in for another kiss, this time long and sweet. Kurt craned his neck up to meet him over the desk, savouring his taste, his smell, his warmth, knowing that it would be days before he’d get to experience it again.

“Ahem.”

They broke apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat at the door. Kurt groaned internally when he saw Rachel standing in the doorway, glaring at them as she held up a plastic bag.

“Like the good friend I am, I brought you some dinner, Kurt,” she said, marching right into the office without waiting for a greeting. She dropped the package on Kurt’s desk and then turned to smile grimly at Blaine. “Hello, Blaine.”

“Hi, Rachel,” Blaine said, smooth as ever. “That was nice of you to bring food for Kurt.”

“I know.” He looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not sure about you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“ _Rachel_ ,” Kurt hissed.

“It’s okay, Kurt.” Blaine smiled at the both of them. “She’s just being a protective friend. I get it. I’d be the same way.” He went to grab his coat. “I wish I could stay and try to further convince Rachel how much I care about you, Kurt, but as you reminded me, I have a flight to catch.” He looped his scarf around his neck. He returned to Kurt’s side for one final goodbye peck. “See you in a few days.”

“See you.” Kurt enjoyed the scowl that was on Rachel’s face. He watched Blaine leave, biting his lip as he got a final glimpse of his backside, and then glanced up at Rachel.

“What did he mean, ‘see you in a few days’?” she demanded. She leaned over the desk, splaying both hands in front of her. If she was trying to look intimidating, Kurt wasn’t impressed.

“I’m going to meet him in LA once I finish all my work here,” Kurt said, attempting to be nonchalant. “He asked me to be his date for the Grammys.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open so quickly that Kurt feared it would hit the floor. “ _What_ ?” she shrieked. “Kurt, the media is going to go crazy over this! Blaine hasn’t brought a _date-date_ to the red carpet ever!”

Kurt flushed. Right. The media. Caught up in the question of going, he’d forgotten what answering ‘yes’ entailed. The media would still be buzzing about the New Year’s photos when they hit the red carpet. There were bound to be uncomfortable questions the moment they appeared in front of the paparazzi.

He looked up at her, suddenly uncertain. “Is this a bad idea?”

“Gee, I wonder!” Rachel threw up her hands in frustration, and started pacing. “What do you think people are going to be talking about when you get there? Your designs? Forget it! It’s all going to be about Blaine Anderson’s new boyfriend, and nobody’s going to care about all the hard work you put into those clothes!”

“That’s not true.” Kurt paused. “Is it?”

“It’s a possibility. One that you should’ve thought about before accepting Blaine’s invitation.”

“Well, I promised him I’d be there. I can’t back out now.”

“You most certainly can!”

Kurt suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “Thanks for the food, Rachel, but I really need to get back to work.”

“But Kurt, I––”

“Please, just _go_.”

Rachel pursed her lips, and considered him for a moment. “Fine. But don’t expect any retweets from me of you two being all coupley on the red carpet.” She turned on her heel and strode from the office, leaving Kurt to wonder if he’d unintentionally got his foot stuck in the wrong door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally got a Tumblr. It’s [“dukecabooms”](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come say hi! I’d love to hear from you all and answer any questions about the story. My anon button is on in case you’re shy.
> 
> Title courtesy of “Bad Ideas” by Tessa Violet.


	12. Anything Could Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt arrives in LA, and discovers that he and Blaine are meant to share a hotel room. With only one bed. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a surprising amount of hate for Rachel after the last chapter. Don’t worry! She’s not going to come between our boys. She’s just being a protective (if a little over dramatic) friend. And also there to play up Kurt’s insecurities. So go easy on her, she’s trying her best :P
> 
> Also, without spoiling too much, that Mature rating comes into play here.

****

 

**January** **  
** **LA, California**

There was a man waiting for Kurt when he landed in LAX, holding up a sign with “KURT HUMMEL” written on it. The man wore a suit, which made Kurt feel sorely underdressed in his airplane-worn outfit, and introduced himself as Wes, Blaine’s publicist. He led Kurt to a car waiting outside, sleek and black. The driver loaded Kurt’s bags into the trunk and then the three of them began the drive to the hotel.

Most of the ride was quiet. Kurt tried to talk to the other two men in the car, but they were both fairly quiet. Wes was polite, cordial, but didn’t warm up to Kurt immediately. He wondered if Wes was upset with him for giving Blaine so much publicity lately. He could imagine it would be difficult to manage public relations when your client was suddenly making out with someone around cameras.

“Kurt, do you have representation?” Wes asked from the front seat. 

“Not currently, no. I’m still trying to incorporate and make ‘Kurt Hummel’ more than a name. Right now it’s just me and a bunch of assistants in an office space,” Kurt said. “But a friend of mine is interested in being my PR agent.”

“What’s her name?”

“Santana Lopez.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

Kurt smiled fondly. “You should. She has claws.”

Shortly after, they made it to the hotel. It was a far fancier establishment than Kurt had ever stayed in; just entering the lobby sucked the air from his lungs. The marble floors, the exotic plants, the chandelier…

_ (this is Blaine’s life, not yours) _

The lobby was swarming. Wes checked him in at the front desk while a bellhop took his bags upstairs. It was as if he was floating along one of those moving walkways that airports had; he was just moving from place to place, and the world was happening around him. Wes took care of things before he even thought about them. Blaine must be used to this life, hardly ever having to think about what he needed before it ended up in his hands. Kurt suppressed his jealousy and brought himself back to reality.

“Is this a popular hotel?” Kurt asked Wes. The lobby was somewhat chaotic. He didn’t see anybody famous, but there were a lot of well-dressed people running around who might have worked for celebrities.

Wes nodded. “We had to book months in advance just to get a room. Which means…” He glanced sideways at Kurt. “You’re going to have to share Blaine’s room. He said you’d be okay with it.”

“Oh.” This was news to him. He couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill about sharing a room with Blaine. They had shared Kurt’s bed before, of course, in completely innocent circumstances during those days when Blaine stayed at his apartment. It still made Kurt nervous to think about doing it again, this time in a hotel room.

Wes’ phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Blaine says if you’re not too tired, he’s at the lounge. Or if you’re feeling jet lagged, you’re welcome to head upstairs.”

“I’ll meet him at the lounge,” Kurt said. Wes led him through the lobby, past the elevators to a sprawling ballroom-esque feature, complete with a fully-stocked bar, crystal vases on every table, and several low-hanging chandeliers. Even the carpet was a fancy, deep burgundy.

Wes paused at the doorway. “He’s over there.” He pointed, and Kurt followed his gaze to a small table where Blaine was chatting with a few other people. Unique was among them, easily distinguishable in the crowd, while the other two Kurt didn’t know. 

“Are you coming, too?” Kurt asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll be dealing with the tabloids that keep calling, looking for an exclusive on Blaine Anderson’s new boyfriend.” With that, he left the lounge, leaving Kurt slack-jawed, standing like an idiot in the doorway.

_ (do people really care that much?) _

Blaine caught sight of him across the room, and waved him over. The other three heads turned as Kurt approached, timid and feeling out of place in such a lavish venue. Blaine stood to greet him, pressing a greeting kiss to his cheek before dragging over an unoccupied chair.

“Long time no see,” Blaine said, a smile glued to his face. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Kurt.” Kurt’s heart swelled at the term. This was the first time he’d heard Blaine introduce him that way. “Kurt, you know Unique. This is David and Jeff. David’s my agent, and Jeff is my personal assistant.”

Kurt shook hands with both of them; David, a tall dark-skinned man with a warm smile, and Jeff, who had a goofy grin and bottle-blond hair that was oddly similar to Sam’s. 

“We’ve been dying to meet you,” Jeff said as they all took their seats. “Blaine’s told us so much.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” Blaine said, and grabbed his hand.

Unique sighed dramatically. “How long do we have to put up with your obnoxious honeymoon phase before it’s acceptable to tell you to shut up?”

“Give us a month, at least,” Kurt said.

“A month?” Blaine said, putting on a face of mock-offence. “ _ Babe _ . We need at least two.”

Kurt had to cover his mouth to stifle a giggle. The word  _ babe _ sounded so weird from Blaine’s mouth, like a foot in the wrong sized shoe. Jeff looked overjoyed to see them together, while David wore a pleasant smile. Even Unique’s scowl was laced with amusement. Kurt hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted approval from Blaine’s friends until that moment. 

They sat chatting in the lounge for some time. Blaine ordered a round of wine for the group, and Kurt felt ever so elegant holding the stem of his glass. The wine, the lounge, his company––none of it felt real. In the span of less than six months, he’d gone from a nobody from Ohio to sharing a hotel room with Blaine Anderson. And all because of Mercedes’ suit.

 

* * *

They stayed in the lounge for dinner, and then retired to the hotel room around nine o’clock. Kurt was already yawning; from his early morning, and the fact that it was already midnight in New York. He watched Blaine slide the key card into the lock. It blinked green, and Blaine pushed the door open into the room.

_ Suite _ was an apt description. It was certainly larger than any hotel room Kurt had stayed in before, stocked fully with a mini-fridge, a king sized bed with too many pillows, an ensuite bathroom, and lavish lounge chairs. 

The door clicked softly behind him. Blaine catapulted himself onto the bed. “God, I could sleep forever.” He propped himself up on one elbow so he could view Kurt as he made his way over. “You must be tired, too.” 

Kurt nodded. “About the sleeping arrangements…”

“Wes told you?” Blaine sat up, and patted the spot next to him.

Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed. “He did. It’s fine. You slept at my place over Christmas. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine scooted closer and put a hand on his knee, and began tracing nonsensical patterns on Kurt’s thigh. 

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Kurt asked, but he knew instinctively that Blaine sensed his unease. Somehow the idea of sharing a bed at Kurt’s apartment was completely different from sharing a bed at a hotel. Kurt’s place was a safe zone; he knew where everything was, what he wanted, and who he wanted there. But in a hotel? Hotels didn’t have any rules, any privacy, any boundaries. It was just them, Kurt and Blaine, in a king sized bed, in complete privacy.

“You have that look on your face like your brain is working extra hard,” Blaine said, leaning his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt hummed. “I can see... a few reasons why things might get out of hand.”

He felt Blaine’s cheek shift against his shoulder, and imagined his coy smile. “Because it’s a hotel?”

“Because it’s no-man’s-land,” Kurt agreed. 

Blaine lifted his head, and met his eyes. “Kurt, this isn’t prom night. It’s not like we planned ahead of time to have sex.” He said it so nonchalantly that Kurt’s embarrassment only dug deeper. Yes, he’d been in relationships before, but he still felt painfully inexperienced. Blaine was probably more experienced than him. How could he not be? He was a celebrity, for God’s sake, and an extremely attractive one at that.

“Do you… want to have sex?” Kurt asked. His chest was tight and he was beginning to feel lightheaded.

“If you want to just sleep, we’ll sleep.” Blaine said it so sincerely that Kurt’s anxiety eased slightly. “We’ve been taking things slow, and that’s okay. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

“Okay. Me too. But, um, no spooning,” Kurt said firmly, earning a raised eyebrow. “I’m serious! Spooning is a lot of touching, and you can feel…  _ everything _ , and you know, it just… it’s dangerous territory.” He was well aware of how flushed his face was by this point. 

“Can we cuddle?” Blaine asked.

Kurt thought about it. “Fine. Cuddling is acceptable.”

Blaine leaned in. “And what about my goodnight kiss?”

He moved closer, but Kurt stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips. “Not until you brush your teeth.”

Shaking his head and wearing a fond smile, Blaine got up and disappeared to the bathroom. Kurt used the time to change into his pajamas and locate his own toothbrush and various skin products from his luggage. Arms full, he bumped his elbow against the bathroom door. “Are you decent?” he called.

The door opened. Blaine’s toothbrush was hanging from his mouth, and he gave a foamy smile as he let Kurt in. “How many products do you use?” he asked when he saw the load in Kurt’s arms. 

Kurt dumped everything on the counter beside the sink. “A healthy night time skin regimen is very important to me,” he said. “And it should be for you, too. All of that makeup they put on you in interviews can’t be good for your skin.”

Blaine rinsed his mouth and set his toothbrush aside. “Maybe you should teach me, then,” he said, and hoisted himself onto the counter, legs dangling off the end, toes just brushing the tiled floor. 

“Try to keep up,” Kurt said, and began his long routine. Blaine played along, asking questions about each product and what it was for. It was endearing, seeing him so invested in what Kurt was doing. It was all so...  _ domestic _ . Moisturizing and brushing your teeth with someone was a new level of intimacy, because it was such a familiar, every day routine. Except this time, with someone special.

Blaine dipped his finger into Kurt’s moisturizer and reached over to smear a blob of it across Kurt’s face. Kurt scowled at him. “You’re the worst,” he said, trying his best to smooth out the lotion across his face. He scooped the extra off with his hand and brought it to Blaine’s cheek. 

Blaine let him rub it into his skin, closing his eyes to Kurt’s touch. “Feels nice,” he said.

Even when the moisturizer had all soaked into his skin, Kurt kept brushing his thumb across Blaine’s cheek bone, and stepped closer. Blaine opened his eyes, and Kurt’s thumb stilled. Blaine’s legs spread apart to allow Kurt to nestle in between, his knees resting gently at Kurt’s hips.

Kurt caught his lips, tentative and coy, relaxing into his embrace as Blaine held on to him. Warm hands gripped his shoulders, drawing him close. Blaine sighed against his mouth with a rush of spearmint mingling with the coconut-scented cream. Even in the thin material of his pajamas, Kurt felt warm. 

Blaine hooked his leg around Kurt’s hip and inched forward, bringing their chests together and deepening the kiss. Desire stirred within Kurt, swirling like a pool of honey in his stomach. His breath hitched when Blaine’s fingers dug into the small of his back, bunching up the material of his shirt.

Kurt  _ wanted _ Blaine. Painfully, truthfully, he couldn’t deny that Blaine ignited something within him that he’d thought was long forgotten. But fear held him back from giving in––fear of what, he wasn’t sure. He’d had sex before, but not like this, not with  _ Blaine _ , who gave him such a surge of want that he had never experienced with anyone else. 

_ (don’t freak out don’t freak out) _

Kurt moved his lips over Blaine’s chin, down his jaw, knowing he couldn’t leave marks but wanting so desperately to claim Blaine as his. He nipped at Blaine’s neck lightly, and he heard Blaine suck in a breath.

“God, Kurt,” he said, voice barely a whisper. Kurt silenced him with a kiss, his teeth sinking into Blaine’s bottom lip. Blaine’s hands dove under his shirt, clutching at his back, nails scraping lightly against his skin, as his tongue ran against the seam of Kurt’s lip, wanting for more. 

When he shifted his feet, he felt his own arousal pressing against the edge of the counter, and a quiet groan escaped him. Blaine’s roaming hands went to his ass, staying safely above the fabric, but pulling him closer so that their hips aligned. Kurt gasped at the friction, tilting his head back, allowing Blaine to press his lips to his throat.

“I want you.” 

Kurt moreso felt the words rather than heard them, just a murmur against his skin. “We can’t,” he breathed. 

Blaine made a noise of frustration and rested his forehead on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt tilted his hips back; he didn’t want Blaine to feel how turned on he was, not when all he had in between was a thin pair of pajama bottoms, and Blaine was still in his street clothes. 

“You drive me crazy.”

Kurt let out a breathy laugh, and curled one hand around Blaine’s neck, toying with the hair on the nape of his neck. It was one of his favourite things to do with idle hands. “You’ve mentioned that before. I’m sorry,” he said.

Blaine lifted his gaze to meet Kurt’s eyes. Beyond his dark look of desire there was a softness, an understanding. “Don’t be.” He moved to cup both sides of Kurt’s face. “The last thing I want to do is mess this up, Kurt. You mean too much to me.”

“Maybe… after the Grammys, you know, when the world has really seen us together… really  _ seen _ us, I’ll feel different.”

“Don’t make any promises,” Blaine said. “I don’t care how long it takes. You matter more than some… weird sex timeline.” 

At that, Kurt couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “Okay, that’s it. You’re officially not making sense. Time for bed.” He stepped away and Blaine hopped off the counter. 

“It makes sense!”

“You need some sleep.” He grabbed Blaine’s hands and dragged him out of the bathroom. “I’m going to brush my teeth, and when I’m done, you better be in your pajamas and ready for lights out.”

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“But more handsome.”

“Definitely more handsome.”

 

* * *

**The next morning.**

Blaine woke up in a warm embrace.

It only took him a few moments to understand his position. Kurt’s arms were woven around his waist, his chest flush to Blaine’s back, the stubble of his chin brushing the back of Blaine’s neck every time he shifted. Kurt’s foot was hooked over his ankle under the covers, but most startling of all was the defined stiffness pressed against Blaine’s ass.

_ (that explains the aversion to spooning) _

Streams of light were coming through the drawn curtains. In the dim hotel room, Blaine stayed very still. His heart was beating far quicker than it should have been for someone who had just woken up. If he moved, Kurt would likely wake up, and he knew that there would be an inevitable embarrassment for the both of them. 

So he lay still in Kurt’s arms and closed his eyes. Images of the night before played behind his eyelids. Brushing their teeth together, making out in the bathroom, his hands on Kurt’s body, his back, his ass––

_ (Oh no.) _

Blaine’s cock stirred, his body flushing hot with the memories. He’d wanted Kurt so badly in that moment. Kurt had been right, that things were different in a hotel room for some reason. It was a liminal space; a space between everything else, where rules didn’t exist. He didn’t need to do  _ everything _ with Kurt, but he wanted  _ something _ . 

Kurt shuffled in his sleep, shifting closer to Blaine. Blaine sighed deeply as he felt Kurt against him, instinctively grinding back before he caught himself and froze. Kurt went very silent, and then the hand splayed across Blaine’s stomach closed around the fabric. “Shit,” Kurt mumbled, still half asleep. 

But he didn’t move. Blaine covered Kurt’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. He lifted it to his lips and kissed Kurt’s knuckles. “Morning.”

“I said no spooning,” Kurt said. Blaine felt lips on the back of his neck, mouthing over his spine lazily.

“Y-You’re the one spooning me,” Blaine said, closing his eyes and shuddering when Kurt rocked his hips forward. “ _ Kurt _ .”

Kurt stilled, and rested his chin in the crook of Blaine’s neck. “You feel so good.” He breath ghosted over Blaine’s ear, and then teeth closed around his earlobe, and Blaine couldn’t suppress a moan.

“ _ Fuck _ , Kurt. You change your mind overnight?” 

“No.” He made his way down Blaine’s neck, peppering kisses across his skin. “But I’ve been known to make bad decisions before my first cup of coffee.”

Blaine turned over to face him. Kurt’s eyes were still half-shut, adorable in his groggy state. “I don’t want you to regret anything,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from Kurt’s eyes. 

Kurt’s eyes flickered over his face, biting his lip in thought. After a moment, he nodded. “I won’t,” he decided, and rolled Blaine on top of him, laying on his back and slotting their legs together. Taken by surprise, a laugh escaped Blaine and turned into a low moan when Kurt’s hands found his ass.

Kurt bucked his hips, and through the thin material of their pajamas, Blaine could feel all of him straining against the fabric. Kurt’s hands explored under his top, roaming over his skin, nails tattooing crescents in his back when the outline of Blaine’s cock slid against his own through the material. Blaine pulled aside the collar of Kurt’s top, and put his mouth to his exposed shoulder.

“God, you and hickeys.”

Blaine didn’t answer, just sucked harder on Kurt’s skin and rut his hips again. Kurt let out a string of curses and a new wave of heat went to Blaine’s dick. His lips came off with a satisfying  _ pop _ . “How do you manage to make swearing hot?” he asked, and Kurt laughed breathily. 

“It’s a talent. God, your tongue is amazing.”

Blaine’s fingers fumbled over the buttons on Kurt’s shirt, kissing each inch of exposed skin as Kurt squirmed underneath him. “The second I saw you in that Halloween costume with your chest out, I swear I wanted to take you right there.”

“Fuck, Blaine.”

He closed his mouth around one of Kurt’s nipples, brushing his tongue over the hardened nub. Kurt’s cock pressed against his stomach, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to take that in his mouth instead, and show Kurt exactly what his tongue could do. Maybe another time.

“Please, Blaine, touch me, or do something, because I need to come right now.”

Blaine slipped a hand under Kurt’s waistband and wrapped his fingers around the length of Kurt’s cock. Kurt’s head went back against the pillows, and he arched his back, trying to get closer. Blaine stroked him slowly, his thumb swiping over the slick precum that leaked from the tip.

They moved together, Blaine rutting against the bed as he stroked Kurt, the creak of the mattress and their heaving breathing the only sounds in the room. Blaine knew when Kurt was getting close, because he suddenly bit down on Blaine’s shoulder, and his nails scraped Blaine’s back, and then he was coming, warmth spilling over Blaine’s hand, working Kurt through it until he went quiet and still, chest heaving under Blaine’s weight.

Blaine pulled his hand out of Kurt’s pants and grimaced, wiping it on the sheets. Kurt was still silent, blinking at the ceiling. Blaine was still rock hard, but he didn’t want to disturb Kurt, so he forced himself not to move. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Then Kurt looked up. “Shit, sorry, do you need to––”

“Please, anything, I’m so close.” 

Kurt pulled him in for a kiss, and Blaine, not caring about the morning breath, started working himself with his clean hand, being careful not to brush against Kurt’s crotch where he was still sensitive. He just focused on Kurt, his mouth, the hand he could pretend wasn’t his own, until he tipped over the edge.

“Fuck, Kurt, you feel so good.” He swore a few more times, excessive yet necessary, until he was finished, and collapsed on Kurt’s chest.

They laid there in silence. Kurt’s hand went to his neck, playing with his hair, and Blaine hummed contentedly. “Nice,” he murmured, then lifted his head. His chin rested on Kurt’s exposed chest and he stared up at him with hooded eyes. “You are such a liar, Kurt Hummel.”

“Hm?”

“Last night. ‘ _ We can’t,’ _ ” Blaine quoted with a teasing smile.

“That was before I had a very sexy dream about you and woke up with my dick pressed to your back.”

“It was my ass, actually.”

“All the better.” He inhaled slowly, and then his nose wrinkled. “God, we smell awful.”

Blaine laughed and sat up. Both of his hands were a sticky mess. “I need a shower so bad.”

“You and me both. Don’t get any ideas,” Kurt added when Blaine started wiggling his eyebrows. “You go first.”

“Yes, sir.” Blaine mock-saluted, kissed Kurt’s temple, and then threw the sheets aside to get up. As he walked into the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, “If you change your mind, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“You wish!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. I hope that was satisfactory, I am quite new to smut but I think (hope?) I did okay. These boys will be the death of me.
> 
> Title courtesy of “Anything Could Happen” by Ellie Goulding.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/)


	13. Take Me Home Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before the Grammys, and Blaine takes Kurt out for a proper dinner date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This amazing reception of this fic has really shocked me. I’m really grateful to have so many faithful readers when this is my first fic I’ve ever posted on AO3. In just a few days we went from 700 hits to 1000. Mind. Blown. I can’t say thank you enough for continuing to read my work!

****

 

 **January** **  
** **LA, California**

Blaine would have liked to spend the entire day before the Grammys with Kurt. Their morning together had only proven to him that being with Kurt was unique to anybody else he had ever hooked up with or dated. There was just something inherently special about being with Kurt that transcended explanation. He tried to stop himself from wondering if Kurt could be _“The One”_... because he didn’t want to get carried away in a typical Blaine Anderson fashion after only being together a few weeks.

Blaine stepped out of the shower, and Kurt took his place, disappearing into the ensuite with a definitive turning of the lock. Not ten minutes later, there was a pounding on the door of the hotel room. Still soaked with a towel around his waist, Blaine opened up to see Wes, looking very stern, and received a scolding for not answering his messages.

Kurt was still in the shower, so Blaine left a note on the pillow, dressed, and slipped out the door with Wes.

 _Kurt –_  
_Sorry for leaving while you were in the shower. Wes whisked me away for business. Interviews and stuff. (Snore!)_  
_I’ll be back for dinner. Want to go out tonight? My treat. It’s about time we went on a proper date, just the two of us and a fancy restaurant._  
_Will you go out with me? Check yes or no._ _  
_ O  Yes      O No

_– Blaine x_

He met Unique in her room, where she styled his hair and made him look presentable, while Jeff delivered everyone coffees. Then they went out into Los Angeles.

They were just pulling away from the hotel when a message came through on Blaine’s phone.

 **Kurt:** Sad I didn’t get to say goodbye, but you get points for the cheesy note.  
**[received photo from Kurt Hummel]**

Blaine grinned stupidly at the picture of the note, which showed a definitive check mark in the “yes” circle, with a heart drawn next to it. He saved the photo to his camera roll and replied with a kiss emoji, then tucked the phone away, ignoring Wes’ suspicious look.

It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

Kurt spent the day in the hotel room. The idea of going outside to explore LA before his date with Blaine was tempting, but he knew that he would rather not get the grime of the city all over him. He wanted to look good for Blaine. After his surprisingly sexual wake-up call, something had shifted in Kurt’s mind.

He still wanted to take things slow with Blaine––that much he was sure of. But that didn’t mean they had to be terrified of touching each other. It wasn’t an all or nothing situation. Kurt just wasn’t ready to give _all_ of himself up to Blaine, not yet, not when everything was so new. But what was wrong with a bit of fooling around?

Plus, he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off Blaine if he tried.

 **Kurt:** How fancy should I dress?  
**Blaine:** Birthday suit should do it.  
**Kurt:** -_-  
**Blaine:** Jk. Business casual?  
**Kurt:** I’ll figure something out.  
**Blaine:** *Tim Gunn voice* Make it work!

Kurt had just finished assembling [his outfit](https://targetexpress.biz/wp-content/uploads/glee-kurt-outfits-glee-finale-we-look-back-at-the-top-fashion-looks-from-the-show.png) when there was a knock at the door of the hotel room. Frowning, he made his way to the door. If it was housekeeping, he didn’t want to face them when they saw the bed sheets.

It wasn’t housekeeping. It was Blaine, holding a bouquet of yellow and red roses, wearing quite [a dapper outfit](http://cdn01.cdn.justjared.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/criss-europe/darren-criss-fashion-europe-10.jpg). He had taken the business casual dress code seriously, with a navy shirt, black pants, a black jacket, and a pair of sneakers.

Kurt broke into a smile. “Well, hello.”

“Delivery for Kurt Hummel.” Blaine stepped inside and gave him a peck on the cheek. “These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful.” Kurt accepted the flowers, shaking his head slightly. It seemed that Blaine took dates very seriously. “If only I had a vase to put them in...”

“Damn it. I knew I forgot something.”

Kurt stared at the flowers a moment longer, then disappeared to the bathroom. He put in the sink plug, filled the sink enough to cover the bottoms of the stems, and leaned the bouquet against the edge of the basin. He returned to the door. “Problem solved.”

“Ingenious.” Blaine offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Kurt wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Blaine was too sweet to make fun of. As much of a dork as he was, Kurt kind of loved it. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths for him just for the sake of being romantic. Or cheesy. There was nothing wrong with either.

The whole car ride, Blaine refused to tell him where they were going. Every time Kurt asked, he would just shush him and give his hand another squeeze where it lay between them in the back seat.

The driver turned on to Melrose Avenue. Kurt watched the street go by. He had an inkling now of where they were going. He looked at Blaine, raising an eyebrow. “Craig’s?” he asked.

Blaine nodded. “Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it, like, Olive Garden but for celebrities?” Kurt asked.

“Kind of. I’ve been there a few times,” Blaine said. “There are usually paparazzi around, but we can try to sneak in the back if you’re worried about it. Or we can go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m dying to see what the hype is about.”

Blaine was right; there were paparazzi hanging around the entrance, not-so-subtly carrying their cameras to try and catch a glimpse of fame. Kurt took a deep breath.

_(act natural)_

Blaine got out first, telling Kurt very firmly not to move. He came around the side of the car and opened up the door, which earned him an eye roll, because Kurt knew he was making a show of it. It was so very Blaine Anderson––he pretended like he wasn’t used to the celebrity life, but Kurt caught glimpses every so often that told him Blaine enjoyed the spotlight.

He helped Kurt out of the car, weaving their fingers together for the walk up to the door. Blaine leaned in to whisper, “You look amazing, by the way,” and Kurt bit back a smile.

There was a click of a camera to the left. Kurt did his best to ignore it, tightening his grip on Blaine’s hand. It only took a few moments to cross the sidewalk before Blaine was holding the door open for him.

“Such a gentleman,” Kurt teased. Blaine responded by tipping an imaginary hat.

 _Craig’s_ was about as fancy as expected. The dark blue carpet, dark wood panelling and exposed brick where accented by the blue booths that curved around the tables. It was swarming with patrons and staff, and Kurt wondered how Blaine had gotten a table on such short notice.

Blaine checked in with the hostess, who batted her eyelashes at him and had an excessive sway to her hips as she led them to their table. Kurt would never understand why girls did that when they knew Blaine was gay, and so clearly there with a date.

They had a corner booth, just the two of them. Kurt’s eyes bugged out when he saw someone he recognized a few booths over. “ _Blaine_. That’s Kim Kardashian,” he hissed.

“Yes, that is.”

“You’re not shocked by this.”

“Nope. You know this place is crawling with A-listers. But I don’t care about any of them, because I’m here with you.” Blaine lifted their joined hands and kissed Kurt’s knuckles. It seemed to be a favourite gesture of his, and Kurt found it adorable.

“I’m amazed you even got a reservation.”

Blaine laughed awkwardly. “I may have gotten Jeff to book it the moment you said you’d come to LA with me.”

_(wow, he doesn’t even have to make reservations himself)_

Kurt perused the menu. It started off sensible enough: soups and salads were standard. As he turned the pages, however, he began to sweat. “Blaine, this food is _really_ expensive,” he said.

“I told you, it’s on me.”

“Look at this––a New York steak for sixty dollars? That’s insane!”

“Kurt.” Blaine put his hand over Kurt’s menu, forcing him to meet his eyes. “That stuff doesn’t matter to me. I want to have a nice dinner with my boyfriend. Don’t think about the prices, seriously.”

“I can’t _not_ think about it.” Kurt was beginning to feel frustrated. “Money doesn’t mean the same to you as it does to me. Did you know I used all of my savings on my office space? I’m still paying my rent paycheck to paycheck most months when I don’t get enough traffic with work since I’m putting most of my income towards the company. I grew up buying my clothes from thrift stores with a single dad running a car shop. Don’t you see that it’s impossible for me to ignore that just getting a… a _side_ here is fifteen dollars?”

Blaine pulled his hands away and leaned back in the booth, eyes downcast. He picked at his nails, looking like a schoolboy being scolded. “I honestly didn’t even think about that. Maybe I am a little bit used to having a cushy life…” He swallowed. “But I’m not asking you to pay me back, Kurt. When I think about spending time with you, I don’t think about the price tag. Me wanting to spend time with you doesn’t have to have a monetary value.”

Kurt sighed. “I know that. It’s just kind of… a lot. And I don’t want this to be the kind of relationship where you spend all of this money on me, and all I can do in return is make you a flashy suit.”

Blaine leaned forward again, an intensity in his eyes. “Kurt. Don’t you ever think that that’s all this relationship is. Because it’s more than that, okay? When I’m with you, I don’t think about who owes who. It’s not give-and-take. It’s us, in this together.”

Kurt stared, taken aback by the passion in his tone. He reached to retake Blaine’s hands, shame burning at his cheeks. “Okay. I believe you,” he said, and Blaine visibly relaxed. He edged closer to Kurt in the booth, pressing their legs together, shoulder to shoulder. He received a kiss on the cheek, and smiled. “I’m still not ordering anything more than thirty dollars.”

“Fair. You can’t talk me out of a bottle of wine, though.”

“One glass.”

“Two!”

They haggled with one another for a while, Blaine winning out with a full bottle by convincing him they were celebrating their shared success with the Grammys, celebrating being in LA, but most importantly, celebrating being together.

 

* * *

 

“Son, you’ve been avoiding me.”

Kurt winced and covered the speaker on his phone, glancing over at Blaine who was sitting on the bed next to him. “ _It’s my dad_ ,” he mouthed, and Blaine nodded, muting the television on the wall opposite the bed. Following their date, they had returned to the hotel room and had since been watching reruns of _Judge Judy._

And then Kurt’s phone rang, and it was Burt Hummel.

“I don’t know what you mean, dad.”

“Don’t BS me, Kurt. Every time I try to call you, you say you’re busy, but I know what’s goin’ on. I’ve seen those pictures of you and this guy Blaine, and I gotta say, I’m not thrilled at being kept outta the loop.”

“Dad, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I certainly do when there’s pictures of my kid on the internet.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Okay, you want the full story? Blaine and I met through Mercedes. You know you can trust her judgment. We started dating, and now we’re together. Tomorrow he’s taking me to the Grammys. End of story.” He saw Blaine smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus, Kurt. The Grammys? That’s a big deal, ain’t it?”

Kurt suppressed a sound of frustration. “Yes, it is, but… I promise, Dad, I’m fine. Blaine is…” He caught Blaine’s eye. “He’s one of the good ones.”

“I wanna meet him.”

“I know. You will. Just… trust me, okay?”

There was a pause, and Kurt heard his dad sigh. Then, “Yeah, okay. I trust you, Kurt. Just be careful. Remember, you matter.”

“I know, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you, kid.”

Kurt hung up, feeling a rush of relief. Blaine dropped his head to Kurt’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. He’s right, I was avoiding him. But it feels good to tell him, you know?”

He felt Blaine nod against him. Blaine’s hand came to rest on his chest. Kurt wondered if he was feeling his heartbeat. “You know…” Blaine murmured, turning his face to Kurt’s neck. “It’s still pretty early.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Blaine shifted, sitting up and slinging a leg over Kurt, straddling him. Kurt’s mind flashed back to their first kiss, when Blaine had kissed him on the couch. Then, he hadn’t had time to sit and enjoy the weight of Blaine in his lap, the way his warm hazel eyes stared down at him with want. He fiddled with the hem of Blaine’s shirt. Blaine rubbed his shoulders, a gentle massage to loosen up his tense muscles, and Kurt smiled, craning his neck up to catch his lips.

“I can’t wait to show you off tomorrow,” Blaine said, his voice low, pressing his lips to Kurt’s cheek, his jaw, his temple, his forehead. “Then everyone will see how great we look together.”

Kurt sucked in a breath as Blaine’s hands worked at the buttons on his shirt. “You know you’re an attention whore, right?” he said, but there was little bite to his words, too distracted by Blaine’s fingers brushing his chest.

“Why do you think I’m in this business?” Blaine retorted, and slid down, kissing his chest, working his way down to Kurt’s stomach.

“To get cute fashion designers into your bed, obviously.”

Blaine laughed, his breath ghosting over Kurt’s navel, raising goosebumps on his skin. His shirt was open now, Blaine pushing the material away to get a full view of him before his hand came to rest on the button of Kurt’s pants. He glanced up through his eyelashes, silently asking a question.

Seeing his face there, so close to where he felt his arousal start to swell, he knew instinctively what Blaine wanted. “You… want to blow me?” Kurt asked.

Blaine blinked, apparently taken aback by the directness of the question. He recovered quickly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “God, yes.”

Kurt bit down on his lip, hard, to keep from making an embarrassing sound. “Yes, okay, please.”

Blaine didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash, he shoved Kurt’s pants down to his knees and Kurt frantically kicked them off onto the floor. His knee knocked Blaine’s jaw, and Blaine winced.

“Sorry!” Kurt gasped, sitting up to cradle his face. “How bad does it hurt? Do you need ice?”

Blaine laughed a little and put a hand to Kurt’s chest, shoving him playfully onto his back. “I’m fine, Kurt. It takes more than that to put me down.” Blaine smiled at him as Kurt lay there in his open shirt and briefs, giving him a chance to say something.

Kurt was reminded of the task at hand. “Take off your shirt, then,” he said. “I want to see you, too.”

Blaine nodded, and roughly pulled his top off, tossing it aside without a second glance. Kurt stared, his eyes tracing the lines of his chest, his abs, the defined V that led his gaze to the waistband of his pants.

“Like what you see?” Blaine teased, wiggling his shoulders playfully.

“Ugh. Never say that again. God, you’re gorgeous.”

Blaine met him for a kiss, deep and lingering, Blaine’s tongue sliding against his. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under his fingertips.

_(how is he even real?)_

“I want to taste you,” Blaine breathed against his mouth, and Kurt couldn’t help the little groan that escaped him. He put a hand on the top of Blaine’s head and gently pushed him down towards his crotch, angling his hips up as he dragged off his briefs with his free hand. His erection came free, stiff with his arousal. Blaine gripped him loosely, stroking slowly as he pressed his lips to Kurt’s hip. “Is this okay?”

“Uh huh.”

Blaine took Kurt in his mouth, hot warmth encircling him so suddenly that he let out a gasp, fingers tightening in Blaine’s hair. He gripped the curls tightly and Blaine hummed, sinking down around his cock, pumping his fist around the base. Kurt tried to breathe normally, closing his eyes to savour the electric feeling of Blaine’s mouth, but he feared he wouldn’t last too long if Blaine kept using his tongue like that—

Blaine slowed down, taking his time, tasting every inch of him, occasionally pausing to stroke him, or nip at his hip, or kiss his stomach. He left a purple hickey on Kurt’s upper thigh, making him squirm, tugging on Blaine’s curls, suppressing his moans.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathed, “I-I’m gonna—“

“I got you.” Blaine sank his mouth around Kurt’s cock, speeding up his movements. Kurt let out a moan as pressure mounted until he was teetering on the edge. He tugged on Blaine’s hair hard, trying to warn him, but Blaine didn’t move, just kept bobbing his head, taking Kurt deeper into his mouth.

“ _Fuck,_ Blaine—“ Kurt’s orgasm overtook him. He arched back, only feeling Blaine’s mouth swallowing around him as he came hard, both hands buried in Blaine’s hair. Blaine pumped him through, staying quiet as he swallowed every drop, until all of the muscles in Kurt’s body relaxed and he slumped on the bed, chest heaving with the rush. He blinked at the ceiling, arms dropping to his sides as he realized just how tightly he was holding on to Blaine’s hair. “Shit, Blaine.”

Blaine joined his side, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth and then running his fingers through his disheveled hair. Kurt realized too late he might’ve actually pulled too hard. “Are you––”

“I’m fine, Kurt,” Blaine cut him off, laughing a little. He sounded just as exhausted. “You worry too much. How do you feel? Good?”

“ _Good?_ ” Kurt laughed. “I’m fucking fantastic.”

Blaine smiled and brushed a lock of hair from Kurt’s forehead that had come free from the confines of his hairspray. “That was really hot, you know.”

“Yeah.” Of course he knew. It had been the best orgasm of his life. “Do you need me to––”

“It’s okay. I’m in no rush.” Blaine kissed his temple and settled down with his head on Kurt’s shoulder. As they lay there, Kurt began to feel sleepy. He kept himself awake by focusing on Blaine’s minute movements, knowing that in a few minutes he’d be able to make Blaine feel as good as Blaine had made him feel.

“Hey,” Kurt murmured, his fingertips ghosting over Blaine’s bare arm. “I’m ready if you are.”

Blaine rolled over to shimmy out of his pants and boxer briefs; he’d softened a bit during their relaxation period, but Kurt figured he could fix that fairly quickly. “How do you want to…?”

“Um… could you just—use your hand? I have, uh…” He rolled towards the edge of the bed, reaching for the bedside table. Kurt admired the view of his bare ass for a few moments, and then Blaine rolled back to him with a tube in his hand.

“You brought lube?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. He couldn’t be upset, even though they had set boundaries.

Blaine blushed. “It’s not like I planned it ages ago. I... might’ve asked Jeff to go get some while we were at dinner and leave it in the room for us. Since this morning went so well.”

Kurt punched him lightly on the arm. “Sleaze. Come here.” He pulled Blaine in by his neck, kissing him hard and hot, feeling his cock twitch again with interest. There was a salty tang on Blaine’s tongue that made his face flush when he recognized where it came from.

He realized then that it was their first time both being fully naked, no barriers between them, just skin and sheets and a tube of K-Y.

“Kurt…”

“Okay, give it.” Blaine put the tube in his hand, and Kurt opened it, his hands trembling slightly.

_(why am I so nervous it’s not like I haven’t done this before)_

Blaine rubbed circles on his back, nosing at his cheek while Kurt warmed up the lube and took Blaine’s cock in his hand. Blaine groaned softly at the sudden contact, and Kurt turned his head to capture his lips again.

It didn’t take long for Blaine to finish. They stayed there, wrapped in one another’s embrace, for a long time. Kurt stared at the muted television, listening to Blaine’s even breaths and the rise and fall of his chest against Kurt’s arm.

Kurt thought that Blaine had fallen asleep, until he heard a soft humming. He listened quietly, smiling when he recognized the melody.

“Teenage Dream?”

“Nothing gets past you.”

“I kind of feel a teenager right now,” Kurt mused. “In a good way. In the ‘us against the world’ kind of way.”

Lips kissed his shoulder. “Me too.” Blaine lifted his head to look at Kurt. “You know I haven’t forgotten you still owe me a song, right?”

Kurt _had_ forgotten. That promise seemed very long ago. “Want one now?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

Kurt flipped through his mental Rolodex of tunes he knew by heart, trying to figure out what would suit this moment the most. He finally settled on one and cleared his throat, and sang softly into the silence of the hotel room.

 _Made a wrong turn once or twice_  
_Dug my way out, blood and fire_  
_Bad decisions, that’s alright_ _  
_ Welcome to my silly life

Blaine was the best audience, snuggling against Kurt as he sang, not making a sound.

With Blaine’s fingers splayed across Kurt’s chest, right over his heart, Kurt wondered if he knew that it had never beat faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kurt sings is “Perfect” by Pink, of course. Thanks again for all of the positive feedback on previous chapters, I really really appreciate it. We’re officially halfway through the fic now, but never fear, I have TONS of ideas for a sequel. I even have the title picked out. :)
> 
> Title of this chapter courtesy of “Take Me Home Tonight” by Eddie Money.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there!


	14. Harmony Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grammys.

****

 

**January** **  
** **LA, California**

The Grammys arrived. 

Blaine wouldn’t have ever admitted that he enjoyed the attention. It was chaos, sure, but there was something about hearing the paparazzi calling to you, cameras clamouring for a glimpse, that sparked something inside of him. Pride, maybe, or if you were going with a different one of the sins, perhaps greed. Everyone had their faults. 

Pose. Quarter turn. Smile. Pose. 

The clicking of the cameras was white noise. The flashes were only flies buzzing around the edges of his vision. This was his element. 

He waved to the crowd of photographers and strode over to the edge of the backdrop, where Kurt was waiting. He looked significantly less comfortable than Blaine.

Blaine took his hand. “You’re doing great,” he assured him.

“I’m not  _ doing _ anything,” Kurt huffed. “Not that I don’t enjoy hanging on your arm, but I feel like a deadweight.”

“You’re  _ not _ a deadweight.” Blaine knew that Kurt was concerned about looking like nothing more than a pretty face. He  _ was _ a pretty face––and pretty everything, even in the [simple black-tie suit](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/ReWKWwrHo1LBI57LIjD1c22QCVE/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2011/01/02/0/485/4852708/833f8afc68d60898_108080145/i/Chris-Colfer.jpg) he’d pulled out at the last second––but Kurt had his ego to deal with. It wasn’t a big one, but it had an appetite. “When people see these pictures, they’re going to go crazy over [your suit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/97/02/61/970261a67fc3909f87dc3766329cdf53.jpg). I feel like a million bucks.”

Kurt smiled. Blaine led him down the carpet, away from the cluster of paparazzi. There were more cameras this way, but most of them were for TV stations covering the red carpet. One of the interviewers waved to him, and he changed direction, heading for the camera.

“About time I showed you off, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Blaine…”

“It’ll be okay. Just be yourself.”

They got close enough for the interviewer, a short man with a halo of an afro and thick-rimmed glasses, to call out to them. “Blaine Anderson! I’d love a moment of your time!”

Kurt leaned in close to his ear. “I recognize him. That’s Jacob Ben Israel. He runs one of the worst gossip blogs I’ve ever read.”

“And yet you’ve read it,” Blaine teased. They stopped in front of Jacob. “Hi, Jacob, how are you?”

Jacob looked at the camera. “Are we rolling? Good.” He lifted his microphone. “JBI here with an exclusive from the chart’s hottest eligible bachelor, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, you have two nominations tonight. How do you plan to celebrate your wins?”

Blaine blinked, absorbing the bizarre introduction. He cleared his throat and leaned into the mic. “Well, first of all, the competition is pretty stiff, so I don’t expect to win. I’d be honoured to take home a Grammy, but––”

“So you believe yourself to be a loser?”

“Uh…”

Kurt leaned into the mic. “Blaine’s very talented, but he recognizes that his career is young and he has plenty of time. We’re both just enjoying the honour of being here. Also, he’s not an eligible bachelor anymore.”

Blaine suppressed a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked at Kurt. That protective streak didn’t take long to come through. 

Jacob Ben Israel turned on Kurt. “Kurt Hummel, wannabe fashion designer. How did  _ you _ end up as Blaine Anderson’s date?”

Blaine snaked his hand around Kurt’s waist. “Kurt isn’t just my date tonight, he’s also my boyfriend.”

“We’ve been together since Christmas,” Kurt added. 

“Yes, your New Year’s pictures were the talk of the Twitter. Was that steamy exchange just a prelude to your future sex tape?”

“Okay, thank you Jacob, but we should really be moving on,” Blaine said quickly, already herding Kurt out of the camera’s frame. Kurt happily went along, and the moment they were out of earshot, Blaine said, “That guy is terrible!”

“He’s notorious for being nosy and rude. He didn’t even ask about your suit!”

“It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time.” Blaine put his hand on the small of Kurt’s back, guiding him along but also taking every opportunity to keep in contact with him.

Kurt suddenly stopped next to him. Blaine turned to see shock written on his face as he stared at one of the interviewers, a tall blonde with a high ponytail, talking in front of a camera. “What is it?” Blaine asked.

“Is that  _ Brittany _ ?”

At the sound of her name, the woman turned from the camera. Blaine realized that he did recognize her as the girl that worked in Kurt’s office. She smiled and waved when she saw them. Kurt led the way over.

“Brittany, what are you doing here?” Kurt asked.

“My extremely popular internet show, Fondue For Two, has made it to the red carpet. Say hello,” Brittany said, gesturing to the camera. She looked unphased by Kurt’s bewilderment at finding her there. “Lord Tubbington was supposed to be my co-host this evening, but his invitation was a forgery so they turned him away at the door. Also they wouldn’t let me bring my hot cheese.”

Blaine blinked, looking to Kurt for help. “Uh…”

“Lord Tubbington is her cat,” Kurt said, as if that explained things. 

Brittany turned to Blaine. “Blaine Anderson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, we’ve actually met––”

“How do you feel about the fact that there is currently an intense online debate about your hair?” Brittany went on, ignoring him.

“My hair?”

“Some people believe you need to return to wearing your signature raspberry hair gelmet, whereas others like myself believe that curls have rights too and they deserve to be free. Care to comment?”

“Um… I like it both ways.”

“We have so much in common, I go both ways, too!” Brittany beamed at him. Blaine felt stupidly out of his league, but when he looked at his date, Kurt was smiling.

Brittany glanced between them, and held the mic up to her lips conspiratorially. “So is it true? Are you, Blaine and Kurt, king and queen of the gays, actually in love?”

Blaine laughed out of sheer surprise. “Love might be a bit of a strong word,” he said, blushing.

“But yes, we’re together,” Kurt added quickly.

“Kurt, what do you say to the rumours that you’re using Blaine for publicity for your brand?” Brittany asked, totally nonchalantly. Blaine opened his mouth, ready to defend Kurt, but Kurt took his hand and squeezed, silencing him.

“That’s a good question, Brittany,” Kurt said. “And it’s something I knew someone would ask eventually. But Blaine and I clicked even before we talked business. Anyone with eyes could see that we’re perfect for each other.”

“That discriminates against blind people. It’s bullying, and I won’t tolerate it,” Brittany said. 

“Thank you for your time, Brittany, but we should get going,” Kurt said, dragging Blaine along. “See you at work!” They squeezed through the thickening crowd of people, their hands still linked. They retreated to where the wall met a leafy potted plant, hiding for a moment from the cameras. 

“That was… interesting,” Blaine said, breathless from their hurried escape.

“You okay?” Kurt asked, frowning slightly, his bottom lip slightly pouted.

Blaine smiled. “Yes, I’m fine.” He smoothed out Kurt’s lapel. “I’m used to this stuff. How are you holding up?”

“It’s a lot, but I’m okay,” Kurt assured him. 

“That question about using me for publicity…” Blaine’s smile fell away, and he glanced around, his bowtie suddenly feeling too restricted. He tugged at his collar.

Kurt looked suddenly affronted. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No, Kurt, of course not,” Blaine said quickly. “It’s just that, well… what you said wasn’t entirely true, was it? We talked business the first time we ever met. Before we met, even, because I tweeted about you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m using you.”

“ _ I _ know that. But that lie, even though it’s a small one, could make things blow up if someone connects the dots.”

Kurt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest before he uncrossed them and smoothed out his suit, apparently wary of wrinkles. He did all of this with a scowl on his face, looking anywhere but at Blaine. “Who cares, Blaine? People will think what they want.”

“I just don’t want people to get the wrong impression of us.” He put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, his thumb brushing Kurt’s neck lightly. “I just think it’s important that we’re honest so that people don’t have a reason to doubt us. And I don’t want you getting frown lines from worrying about this,” he added, lifting a hand to smooth out Kurt’s wrinkled forehead. 

At that, Kurt’s scowl vanished, and he pressed his lips together, looking like he was hiding a smile. “So thoughtful,” he deadpanned. “But yes, I see your point, as much as I hate to admit I’m wrong.”

“It happens rarely enough that your pride should remain intact,” Blaine teased. “Come on, let’s go show off this incredible suit you made me, so that nobody can doubt you don’t need my help to make it big.”

 

* * *

Kurt was in awe at how lavish the inside of the venue was. The high ceilings, thousands of seats, even the bathrooms shined so brightly that he thought he could probably eat off the tiled floor and still have a clean bill of health. The red carpet was one thing, but it was something else to be sharing the same air as so many famous people, packed into one room like sardines.

As the night progressed, Kurt got a sense of just how famous Blaine really was. He had heard Blaine’s music on the radio, and he had seen the view counters on the music videos, and how high he reached on the charts, but to see other artists of such a high calibre approaching him to say hello or congratulations was astounding. Blaine was a big fish in a big pond, and Kurt was just a minnow.

They did, thankfully, get to talk about Blaine’s suit quite a lot. They saw Mercedes on the way in, in her [stunning dress](https://www.redcarpet-fashionawards.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Amber-Riley-In-Tony-Ward-Couture-2017-Olivier-Awards.jpg) that Kurt had made, and she told him that she had talked him up quite a bit in all of her interviews. He owed her a lot. In fact, he owed her that he was even at the Grammys at all, on Blaine’s arm. It was because of her that they had met.

Despite the attention, Kurt wasn’t happy. He liked Blaine––so much, that he thought it wouldn’t take long to fall in love with him. Blaine felt like his other half, a home, a family, a future. But Blaine was so, so high above him. He didn’t want to get tired of reaching so far, just to fall back down on his face. If that happened, he wasn’t sure that he could pick up all of the pieces of himself again.

Thoughts swirled in his head throughout the show. It was a long night. There were tons of awards, shitty jokes from the presenters, and of course, performances. Kurt asked Blaine why he wasn’t performing––Blaine told him that he’d gotten an offer, but turned it down. Kurt thought that was curious, but Blaine just shrugged and said he had plenty of his career to do things like that, and he wanted to enjoy his first time at the Grammys in the audience rather than on the stage.

There was a constant pressure of Blaine’s hand in his. Blaine didn’t let go all night, except to clap, and that, at least, Kurt was grateful for. His future with Blaine might be uncertain, but his grasp kept Kurt grounded amid the chaotic glamour.

 

* * *

Blaine lost. Twice.

If it had been one award, he wouldn’t have blinked. People were nominated for awards and lost all the time––more often, in fact, than they won. So if it had just been one award, Blaine wouldn’t have minded.

But he’d been nominated for two. That had given him a sliver of hope. Blaine pretended not to be, but he  _ was _ competitive. He’d gone to Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals countless times with the Warblers back in high school, and he’d loved the rush of the competition. The Grammys were a much bigger deal than high school show choir, but still, he had hope.

Both times his name wasn’t called, he smiled, clapped politely for the winners, and shoved aside his disappointment. There was a strange guilt inside of him, that he was upset by losing. He was relatively new to the industry. There was no reason why he should sweep the competition. 

But losing sucked.

After the second loss, Kurt leaned over to speak to him in a low, concerned voice. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Blaine just put on a smile, nodded, and squeezed Kurt’s hand. “I’m fine,” he said. He could see that Kurt wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t blame him; he wouldn’t have been, either. But he wouldn’t take away someone else’s win by being a sore loser. 

All he could think about was taking Kurt home at the end of the night, crawling into bed, and holding him until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

_ (or…) _

Blaine let go of Kurt’s hand and moved to rest on his thigh, tracing circles with his thumb, mind abuzz with thoughts, zoning out the world around him for the rest of the evening.

 

* * *

Blaine’s hand drove Kurt  _ insane _ . 

He knew, rationally, Blaine was likely just being casual by putting his hand on Kurt’s thigh. Maybe his hand was cramping from holding his all night, or getting too sweaty. His hand was a warm, welcome weight, his touch seeping through the material of his dress pants to prickle Kurt’s skin. But it was very,  _ very _ distracting. 

When the show finally ended, he glanced around, seeing the excitement of those who had won and lost, performed and watched, and most importantly, drank. He caught Blaine’s eye as they stood to leave. “I guess… there’s probably an after party?” he asked.

Blaine nodded, slowly, and reached over to smooth Kurt’s collar and adjust his tie. His fingers lingered on Kurt’s neck, brushing his Adam’s apple. “We could go… or…” Blaine leaned in, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Or we could go back to the hotel.”

Kurt’s eyes shifted around, but nobody was paying attention to them. Through shallow breaths, he said, “I’d like to go back to the hotel with you.”

And so Blaine smiled. Stepped forward to kiss Kurt’s cheek. “Then let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title courtesy of “Harmony Hall” by Vampire Weekend.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there!


	15. Shut Up

_“I cannot hold my tongue, you give me much to say_  
_I’m sweating bullets, nervous that you’ll push away_  
_And when your eyes catch mine, I know I talk too much_ _  
_ So give me your two lips, and baby I’ll shut up”

\- “shut up” by Greyson Chance

 

 **January** **  
** **LA, California**

The pillows gave an emphatic _thump_ as Kurt fell back onto the bed, sweating in a post-orgasm euphoria. Beside him, he could hear Blaine’s heavy breathing, trying to catch his breath. Stars whispered at the edge of Kurt’s vision, keeping away any coherent thoughts. The only word in his mind was _wow._

Blaine tugged the covers up to his chest and laid on his side, his face half-concealed by the pillow as he stared at Kurt. Kurt joined him, tangling their legs together under the duvet, noses brushing as he met Blaine’s honey-brown eyes.

Blaine had pulled him into the hotel room after barely holding it together in the limo.

_(Pressed against the door, Kurt grappled with Blaine’s bowtie, wishing he hadn’t tied it so damn tight. Blaine’s lips were on his neck, teeth grazing, hands sliding under his rumpled dress shirt._

_“Blaine, your suit––”_

_Blaine hastily stepped back to remove his carefully made garments, being remarkably conscious of the material as he stripped down to his boxers. He folded everything as neatly as he could with trembling hands while Kurt removed his own suit. He cared less about his suit than Blaine’s, because as much as he wanted Blaine in that moment, he wasn’t about to let his boyfriend throw away weeks and weeks of hard work._

_Both in their underwear, Blaine turned back to Kurt and pinned him roughly to the wall, wasting no time in aligning their cocks through the fabric._

_“Bl––” Kurt’s breath hitched, “––aine, w-we need to––”_

_“Please, Kurt, just shut up and kiss me.”)_

Kurt glanced at Blaine’s mouth, his swollen lips showing their desperation. Blaine had been… not _aggressive_ , that wasn’t the right word. But the urgency he’d shown, although hot in the moment, made Kurt wonder if Blaine was doing as well with his losses tonight as he said he was.

He felt Blaine’s toes on his ankle, icy cold despite the warm bed. “What’re you thinking about?” Blaine murmured.

_(your tongue, your hands, your abs, your––)_

“Nothing,” Kurt said.

Blaine slid a hand around him, unabashedly gripping his bare ass to drag him closer. “Liar,” he whispered. “I can hear your brain working.”

Kurt let out a breathless laugh. They had just finished, and already Blaine seemed insatiable for more. All of Blaine stuck to him like glue, but his body didn’t distract Kurt from the conversation. Blaine had a habit of seeing right through him. It was unlike how any of his friends saw him. Usually, when Rachel knew Kurt was stuck on something, she would talk about her own issues instead. It was annoying, but Kurt understood that she was trying to do it to keep his mind on other things.

Blaine, though, never shied away from asking the questions on his mind. His raw honesty is what Kurt liked about him so much. Which was why it was curious that Blaine seemed to be hiding something. “You’re just acting… different, right now,” he said quietly.

Blaine’s grip slackened, and he tipped his head back to look Kurt in the eye. “Well, I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, so how else am I supposed to act?” he said. It was his lack of seriousness in his response that annoyed Kurt. Weren’t people supposed to talk about feelings after sex?

“Come on, Blaine,” he said, pulling Blaine’s hands off of him. “You’ve been acting weird since we left the venue.”

Blaine hesitated, struggling to come up with an answer. “I just... wanted to be with you. Is that so weird?”

“It’s not that.” Kurt sat up. “How can you ask _me_ what’s wrong, but then as soon as I ask you, you shut me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out.” Blaine sat up, too, bunching up the duvet around his waist. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Then explain it to me.” Kurt fought his annoyance. He wasn’t just upset, he was also concerned. He focused on that, reaching over to rub Blaine’s arm, to show him he was there. “Does this have anything to do with you not winning tonight?”

To his surprise, Blaine closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain. “Don’t, Kurt.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Kurt scooted closer, ignoring how Blaine tried to push him away. He just gripped him tighter, to show him that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Talk to me, Blaine.”

“No. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Realization dawned on him; Blaine was _embarrassed_ . “It’s _not_ stupid,” he repeated, more forcefully. “People lose these awards all the time, Blaine. You’ll have plenty of other chances.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Kurt’s hands stilled when Blaine shot him a look of anger. This time, he didn’t resist when Blaine shoved his hands away. “There will be _tons_ of chances. That’s what everybody keeps telling me!”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I _care_ , Kurt. I care that I lost, and that makes me… it’s makes me feel fucking stupid.” Blaine scoffed. Kurt had never seen him so worked up. “I feel stupid for caring, because I know that I’m damn lucky to even be invited to the Grammys, let alone nominated.”

“Music is your life. Of course you care.”

“I don’t want to be one of those guys whose self worth is tied to how many awards I win. It’s shallow, and it’s not who I want to be.”

That thought sunk into Kurt’s mind. “So…” he said slowly, “you’re not embarrassed because you lost… you’re embarrassed because you _care_ that you lost?”

Blaine groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You see why I didn’t want to talk about this?” he said, his voice muffled against his palms.

“Okay, no.” Kurt took Blaine’s face in his hands and forced him to look up and meet his eyes. “I might not always understand your life, Blaine, but I’m still here for you. That’s what boyfriends are for. We’re supposed to talk about this stuff.”

The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitched up slightly at the word _boyfriend_. Kurt kissed him, and Blaine sighed against his lips.

“You’re not stupid,” Kurt whispered, for what felt like the thousandth time. For Blaine to even think of himself that way made his heart ache. “Of course you want recognition. It’s a part of being human. Maybe you’ll win an award someday, or maybe you won’t. The important thing is that you keep doing what you love. You’re an incredible musician, Blaine, but you’re an even more incredible person. I’ve never met someone as compassionate as you, or as humble, or… or as selfless…” He kissed Blaine’s cheek. “Or as charming.” A kiss to his chin. “Or handsome…” His jaw.

He felt Blaine’s throat shift as he laughed softly. “Go on.”

Kurt kissed his neck. “Or sexy…”

“You clearly haven’t met yourself.”

Kurt lifted his head to see Blaine smiling. He smiled in return. “You see? Even when I’m trying to compliment you, you throw it back at me.”

“You’ve made your point,” Blaine said. He ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair, and Kurt leaned into his touch. “You always know exactly what to say.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Blaine nodded slowly. “With you by my side, I think so.” His fingers drifted down Kurt’s neck, to his shoulders, and then caressed his chest. He traced lines on his skin, soaking in the sight as if it was his first time seeing him.

His touch ignited a fire in Kurt’s belly, reawakening him. One day, he would forget his inhibitions and ask for all of Blaine. Today wasn’t that day, but he couldn’t deny his hunger for Blaine’s touch. He didn’t think that would ever go away, not if he lived to be a hundred.

“It’s getting late,” Kurt said. He was sure it was already past midnight.

“ _I’m_ not tired.”

“We have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

“Not until the afternoon.” Blaine’s hand went under the duvet, not shying away from Kurt’s legs, moving up his thighs.

“I–I just think maybe we should, um…”

The hand that remained on Kurt’s chest pushed him down, lying him flat on his back. Blaine climbed on top of him, looming over him with definitive confidence, sure that Kurt wasn’t going anywhere. He leaned down, his lips barely apart from Kurt’s as he whispered, “You talk too much.”

“Maybe you should shut me up, then.”

And Blaine did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one was really short, but I thought it was important for their relationship. It’s probably my favourite chapter so far. I only have the next three chapters after this written, so uploads are going to slow down. But I have the rest of the fic planned out, so it shouldn’t take an unreasonable amount of time.
> 
> Every time I hear the song “shut up” by Greyson Chance I can’t help but think of Kurt and Blaine. It’s a pretty definitive song in the playlist for this fic. I highly recommend giving it a listen!
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there!


	16. break up with your boyfriend, i'm bored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the time jump for this chapter (last one was in January). I wanted to skip past the honeymoon phase a bit, so that the relationship is a bit more defined and things have advanced in both of their careers slightly. 
> 
> I’d say “enjoy” but I have a feeling that’s a bit optimistic for this chapter…

****

 

 **March** **  
** **NYC, New York**

“David _, no_.”

“It’s too late, Blaine. It’s already booked.”

Blaine grunted in frustration and refrained from tossing his phone across the apartment. His knuckles went white around the phone as he brought it back to his ear. “David, I don’t like Sebastian Smythe,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “He’s unprofessional, and predatory, and honestly? He’s just plain creepy.”

“How exactly is he unprofessional?”

Blaine made a noise of exasperation. “He came up to me at a party and started, like, flirting with me and talking about taking my pictures and _showing the world a new side of me_ , or something.”

There was a pause on David’s end of the line. Then, “That just sounds like he was doing business with you, Blaine.”

Blaine collapsed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, hollow with resignation. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I.”

“No. Sorry, Blaine. You need some good press, and Sebastian’s photography is amazing. Things have been quiet since the hype of the Grammys died down. Everyone loved you and Kurt together, but we can’t forget about _your_ image. It would be good to give people something to talk about.”

“What does Wes think?”

“He’s the one who suggested it in the first place. Sorry, Blaine. This Friday, eleven AM. I’ll send you a car.”

“Fine.” Blaine hung up and immediately opened his messages, holding his phone above his face as he remained on his back.

 **Blaine:** So I have a photoshoot with Sebastian Smythe on Friday.  
**Kurt:** WHAT???  
**Kurt:** CANCEL!!  
**Blaine:** Believe me, I tried. David and Wes are out to get me.  
**Kurt:** Give me their numbers and I’ll give them a piece of my mind.  
**Blaine:** You’re sweet. It’s okay. It’ll probably be fine, it’s not like he can do anything in a professional setting.  
**Kurt:** If you say so :(  
**Blaine:** Trust me, you’re all mine xo

 

* * *

 

Kurt set down his phone, eyes narrowed as he thought back to the way Sebastian Smythe had eyed Blaine like a prize at the New Year’s Eve party. It had taken all of his effort not to smash his weasel face in. But since Sebastian had remained scarce after that, Kurt had actually forgotten about him. There were more important things that he’d focused on.

He’d been in somewhat of a fantasy state since the Grammys, soaking up every moment he had with Blaine. There was no radio silence anymore; they were constantly in touch, and took every opportunity to see one another. People took an interest in them, and maybe it was egotistical, but Kurt liked searching through the internet for the opinions of Blaine’s fans. There was even fanart of them.

Behind closed doors, things couldn’t have been better. Blaine made a habit of stopping by Kurt’s office at least twice a week to bring him a meal or coffee. Kurt had accompanied Blaine to the studio a couple of times, just to watch and listen to him recording new music. It was amazing to see him work in his element.

They had fallen into a steady rhythm of a relationship now. Everything was still new, but they had survived the honeymoon stage. They had regular dates, usually involving cooking for one another, watching movies, and getting coffee. Blaine often came over to his apartment and stayed the night (sometimes Kurt went to his, but less often as they were afraid of Sam interrupting). They had each invested in keeping an extra toothbrush in their bathrooms.

There were things about Blaine that Kurt noticed now, little habits and quirks. Like when he was upset or nervous, he would run a hand over his hair (if it was gelled, his palm would just ghost over it). If there was music playing, Blaine would always sing or hum along, regardless of the time, place, or if he knew the song well. When he sang, Blaine’s nose scrunched up in concentration, and he _always_ sang in the shower.

He was also extremely touchy. Kurt wasn’t complaining; he liked how Blaine was constantly making excuses to touch him, whether it was putting a hand on his shoulder, touching his wrist as he walked past, or smoothing out a crease in Kurt’s shirt.

Blaine wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he forgot to cap the toothpaste, or he’d leave a cupboard open after getting a mug. He wouldn’t rinse his plate before putting it in the dishwasher, and he had a habit of closing doors loudly while Kurt was still asleep.

But he was Kurt’s, so Kurt didn’t care.

He assured himself that that wouldn’t change regardless of what happened with Sebastian at the photoshoot. Sebastian was slick, but he couldn’t stop Blaine from being faithful to him. That much he was certain of.

 

* * *

 

Friday came sooner than expected. A car picked up Blaine from his apartment and drove him down to wherever Sebastian’s studio was based. He couldn’t bring himself to care too much about being presentable. He had a quick shower after waking up, but he hadn’t even bothered with his hair, knowing that he’d be styled however way Sebastian wanted when he arrived. He’d also been growing out his stubble for a little over a month, and it was shaping nicely into a tight beard.

(He might have done it after Kurt admitted that he loved the feeling of Blaine’s facial hair on his skin when they were being intimate.)

He yawned in the backseat of the car, wishing he had another cup of coffee.

 **Blaine:** omw to a date with the devil.  
**Kurt:** Send me a 911 text if you need a boyfriend to conveniently show up and crash the shoot. x

Blaine smiled and tucked his phone away. Maybe the photoshoot wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Sebastian’s bark was worse than his bite, and anyhow, it wasn’t like they would be alone. Blaine was familiar with how photoshoots went. There were usually plenty of people in the studio, and if Sebastian was really acclaimed as people said, he would likely have a whole crew of people for lighting, wardrobe, makeup…

He had nothing to worry about.

The building was an old factory that had been converted into studio spaces. Blaine marvelled at the high ceilings and industrial fittings. Copper light fixtures, exposed brick––Sebastian really was doing well for himself. Blaine was impressed.

And he was right; Sebastian had plenty of people working for him. The building was swarming, and Blaine was quickly whisked to a dressing room to be fitted for his first outfit, a soft pink tee and a jean jacket, topped off with a slick leather-band watch. It was a surprisingly relaxed look for a photoshoot. Usually, photographers wanted to fit him with fancy suits. It was nice to have some wiggle room.

During hair and makeup, he was surprised when they left his beard mostly as it was, only stopping to shape it more cleanly. Blaine often presented himself to the public as clean shaven and preppy, because it kept a clean image. That was what Wes suggested he do, anyway, and he’d never disagreed with the idea.

“Sebastian gave us specific orders to keep whatever facial hair you might have,” replied the hair stylist when Blaine asked. He noticed that the man was young and good looking––in fact, everyone that worked for Sebastian seemed to be of a certain aesthetic calibre.

“Why’s that?”

“We don’t ask questions.” The man gave a tight smile and went back to work on arranging Blaine’s curls.

Finally, he was led to the studio space. Sebastian had an impressive set up of lighting in front of a beige backdrop. Several people milled around, prepping the set. He saw a table full of camera parts against the far wall, laden with a variety of fancy lenses. He knew very little about photography, but he could tell that this was quite the collection.

“I said _black_ out the windows, not _grey_.” Sebastian was standing with a young woman by one of the large floor to ceiling factory windows on the outer wall. The windows were covered with black drapes, but the material was thin, and some light still came through.

“I-I’m sorry, that was I could find,” said the timid woman.

Sebastian loomed over her, disgust on his face. “Then double up the curtains, and then get out of my studio. I don’t have time for amateurs.” He turned away from her, and caught sight of Blaine. Instantly, his expression flipped like a switch. “Blaine. Welcome.” He made his way over, and extended his hand. Blaine shook it, clenching his teeth when Sebastian’s grip lingered longer than it should have. “Impressive studio, don’t you think?”

“It’s nice,” Blaine forced himself to say, smiling tightly.

Sebastian’s eyes raked over him. “I like the beard,” he said. “Your squeaky clean image is cute, but I think we can dirty it up a bit. Come with me.”

He led Blaine to the backdrop. There was a stool in the centre of the set, with a small table off to the side for later. He gestured to the stool, and Blaine sat down, facing the camera that was set up on a tripod. The lights made him squint, already feeling their heat. He suddenly felt as if he’d walked into an interrogation room.

Sebastian began instructing him on how he wanted him to pose. Slouch more, hand here, knees more apart, tilt your head. A few times, he would use a hand to guide Blaine in the direction he wanted. It wasn’t unusual for photographers to direct him physically, but even so, each touch made Blaine squirm and felt like it lasted an eternity.

Sebastian finally got behind the camera. They took dozens of shots. Blaine fell into an easy rhythm, wordlessly obeying Sebastian’s direction, knowing that it would go quicker if he did as he was told. It wasn’t until Sebastian said, “Give me more sultry, Blaine,” that Blaine decided he needed a break.

He sat up straight, breaking his pose. “Can I actually get a glass of water?” he asked.

Sebastian pursed his lips, hesitated, and then nodded to an assistant, who scurried away. Sebastian cocked a hip and watched Blaine with a smile. “You photograph so well,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Sebastian looked around to the other members of his staff lingering and waved them off. “Take five,” he ordered. They dispersed. It was alarming how quickly people followed his orders. He rounded the camera and walked to Blaine, hands in his pockets, at a leisurely pace. “You seem uncomfortable, Blaine.”

“Do I?” Of course he did. He was posing for a vulture.

“Mhm.” Sebastian looked down at him with that same smirk he usually wore. “Something bothering you? Have a fight with your new boyfriend?”

Blaine got to his feet, not feeling like taking Sebastian’s attitude sitting down. “No, actually. Kurt and I are very well, thank you. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Sebastian raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to press any buttons. I’m just concerned. When Kurt and I talked on New Year’s Eve, he seemed very… possessive of you.”

Blaine blinked, taking in Sebastian’s words. “You and Kurt talked at the party?” he asked.

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know? Hm.” He shrugged. “We exchanged a few words. He was quite rude, actually. Doesn’t really seem like your type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, between all of the insults he threw at me, there was definitely some unhealthy jealousy in there. Like he thought of you as a prize. It’s sad, really.” He took a step closer, and put a hand on Blaine’s arm. Blaine looked up at him, shocked by his audacity. “I’d hate to see him take advantage of you.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes. Now more than ever he wished he wasn’t so short, or more preferably, that Sebastian wasn’t so tall. He wanted to look Sebastian directly in the eye. “Kurt would _never_ do that,” he said firmly. He jerked his arm away from Sebastian’s touch.

“How can you be sure?” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Without you, he’s a nobody, Blaine. Before you noticed him, nobody else did. Just think, you and I have so much more in common. We could do amazing things together.”

Blaine took a step back, and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’m not interested,” he said. “What we’re doing here is professional, Sebastian. Keep whatever personal motives you have out of it.”

Sebastian shook his head a little, as if not believing him. “If you change your mind...” He trailed off, his words hanging in the air. “Shall we continue the shoot?”

“Please.”

The moment Sebastian turned his back, Blaine let out a long sigh, releasing his nervous energy. He settled back down on the stool, hands shaking slightly as he accepted a glass of water from one of the assistants.

_(why did he and Kurt talk at the party? and why didn’t Kurt tell me?)_

 

* * *

 

**One week later.**

Kurt lounged on Blaine’s bed, a fashion magazine open in his lap. Beside him, Blaine was sitting in nothing but his boxers, fresh out of the shower with his laptop perched on his thighs. Kurt was barely reading the magazine, stealing glances of his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye.

There had been something off about Blaine ever since the photoshoot with Sebastian. His constant smiles and touches reserved only for Kurt had been less consistent, his mood more subdued. At first, Kurt thought that Sebastian had just been particularly annoying, but when Blaine’s bad mood continued for the next week, he started to wonder if there was something genuinely wrong. Blaine hadn’t talked about what happened at the shoot, just insisted that Sebastian had flirted but he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested.

Kurt reached over and rubbed Blaine’s bare shoulder. Blaine continued clacking away at the keyboard. “It’s late. Are you still answering emails?” Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded, not looking up. Kurt suppressed a sigh. Blaine seemed to bounce back and forth between being open with him, and shutting him out. He wore his heart on his sleeve; Kurt could always tell when he was troubled by something. He seemed to have no issue talking when it was Kurt who was upset, but as soon as it became about his own emotions, Blaine got cagey.

There was a soft _ping_ from Blaine’s inbox. Blaine sucked in a breath. “Sebastian just sent the proofs,” he said.

Kurt gasped and edged closer to him, looking over his shoulder. “Open it!”

The mouse hovered over the email. After a long moment of hesitation, Blaine clicked. The photos loaded slowly, and as Blaine scrolled through, Kurt’s jaw dropped.

 

   

 

“Holy shit, Blaine. You look…” Kurt was at a loss for descriptive words. “ _Hot_.”

Blaine let out a huff of air that might’ve been a laugh. “I mean… yeah, I guess. Wow.”

Kurt tore his eyes away from the photos to look at Blaine. “You don’t seem happy,” he said.

Blaine met his eyes. “They’re good photos. They’re just… Sebastian’s photos.” He grimaced. “All I can think about is that he’s spent the last week... _looking_ at these. We took hundreds.”

Kurt snorted. “What, you think he’s jacking off to these in his office?” Blaine didn’t respond. “Come on, Blaine. It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t do that, Kurt.”

“What?”

“Don’t say it’s no big deal. Don’t minimize my feelings.” Blaine shut the laptop and stood up, covering his chest with the device. “I don’t want to think about what Sebastian does with these photos in his free time.”

Kurt watched him move to his desk to set down the laptop. “Blaine. I’m not trying to minimize your feelings, but it’s over. You took the photos. It’s done. You don’t have to see him again.”

“It’s the way he looked at me, Kurt, that whole time. I spent _four hours_ at his studio, and the whole time he was looking at me like a––a piece of meat!” Blaine started pacing. “You should’ve seen the way he treated his staff. He almost made a girl cry for not blacking out the windows properly. They didn’t just follow his orders, they, like… _obeyed_ him. Like a dictator.”

“Why are you so worked up about this?” Kurt said. “Is this why you’ve been so upset this past week? Because of Sebastian?”

Blaine stopped pacing. “Yes. No.” He frowned. “Kurt, he said some stuff to me. About you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. He mentioned talking to you at the party. Alone.”

“Oh.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I ran into him in the bathroom. The whole conversation was bullshit.”

“What did you say to him?” Blaine asked.

Kurt was taken aback by his tone. Almost accusatory, as if Kurt had done something wrong. “Nothing,” he said slowly. “He made it pretty clear what his intentions were, so I told him to back off. That’s it.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was New Year’s and I didn’t want to upset you? Because I was finally happy to be out in public with you and I didn’t want Sebastian Smythe to ruin it? I mean seriously, Blaine, it was a thirty second conversation. It’s not that important.”

“It is. To me.” Blaine climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Kurt, sitting on his knees in front of him. “I don’t like the idea of Sebastian using his manipulation tactics on us, Kurt.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” Kurt scoffed.

“Then you’re naive,” Blaine said. “This industry might seem like high school sometimes, but people like Sebastian are smart. He has power, even if it doesn’t look like it.” He ran his hand through his loose curls. “I guess I can’t expect you to understand.”

Kurt gripped the sheets tightly, trying and failing to rein in his temper. “Do you think I’m stupid, Blaine?”

“What? No, of course n––”

“Just because I’m not a chart-topping heartthrob like you doesn’t mean I don’t understand how the world works,” Kurt snapped. “ _Don’t_ call me naive. I’m not scared of Sebastian because I thought he wouldn’t be able to come between us. But if this is how you’re going to be, then I guess I was wrong.”

He tossed the sheets aside and started gathering his things, ignoring the hurt in Blaine’s voice as he said, “Kurt, please don’t.”

“Should I remind you that you’re the one who kept all of this drama bottled up for a week?” Kurt found himself saying. He shoved his clothes, his magazine, and his hair products into his travel bag. He kept his back to Blaine. “You told me the photoshoot went fine, only to bring this up now. How can you expect me to understand if you’re not even honest with me?”

“Kurt, please stay so we can talk about this.”

“We can talk tomorrow when you get off your high fucking horse, Blaine.” It took all of Kurt’s will not to look at him as he strode from the bedroom, beelining for the front door.

He heard Blaine’s hurried footsteps following him down the hall. “You’re in your pajamas, Kurt.”

Kurt shoved his feet into his boots. “I’m aware.”

“Come back to bed. Please.”

Blaine’s voice sounded desperate now. Kurt ignored the ache in his chest and tugged his coat on, not pausing to button it up. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

“Kurt––”

The rest of his sentence came to an abrupt halt as the door slammed shut. Kurt froze on the doorstep, breathing hard, head spinning.

_(he better forgive me for this tomorrow)_

 

* * *

 

 **Unknown Number:** Thought you’d want to see this before it reaches Twitter.  
**[received photo from Unknown Number]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s my birthday today so you’re not allowed to be mad at me. ;)
> 
> Title courtesy of “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” by Ariana Grande.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there!


	17. Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

****

 

**March** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Blaine clutched Kurt’s phone with white knuckles, a furious red creeping up his neck as he stared at the screen.

The picture was taken with a phone camera, but its image was clear: Blaine, dressed for the photoshoot, was standing entirely too close to Sebastian. Sebastian’s hand was on his arm, saying something to him that seemed to be meant for private ears, while Blaine looked up at him. From the distance the picture-taker had been, it was hard to tell what Blaine’s expression was, but Blaine knew what it was  _ meant _ to look like––an expression of intimacy.

He remembered exactly what Sebastian had been saying in that moment. “ _ I’d hate to see Kurt take advantage of you.” _

What a joke.

If Blaine was holding his own phone, he probably would have tossed it across the room.

Instead, he handed it back to Kurt, who was watching him intently for his reaction. Blaine took a slow, shaky breath.

_ (He stood in the foyer of his apartment for five long minutes, waiting to see if Kurt would return after storming out. Slowly it dawned on him that he wasn’t coming back. _

_ Blaine turned from the door, resigned to a night in an empty bed. He knew instinctively that Kurt’s pride wouldn’t let him return that night even if he wanted to.  _ **_Did_ ** _ he want to? Or had Blaine ruined the best part of his life with his stupid words? Maybe if he was lucky, they could talk things through tomorrow. If he wasn’t lucky…. _

_ He was halfway to his bedroom when–– _

**_Knock knock knock._ **

_ Blaine turned on his heel and ran to the door, throwing it open without a moment’s hesitation. “Kurt...” _

_ “You need to see this.” Kurt pushed past him, not even taking the time to throw off his coat. Confused, Blaine shut the door and hurried after him. _

_ “I thought you weren’t coming back,” Blaine said, desperately needing to touch him, to hold him, to take back everything he had said.  _

_ Kurt looked at him sharply from where he stood in the centre of the living room. He fiddled with his phone as he said, “I wasn’t.” _

_ Blaine’s heart sank. Kurt wasn’t here to make amends, which meant something was wrong. “What’s going on?” He took a tentative step closer, and was met with Kurt outstretching his phone towards him. Slowly, he took the phone and angled it towards him, blinking at the picture staring back at him––) _

“Say something, Blaine.” 

Kurt’s expression had changed. He had discarded his coat and boots now, left them in a heap on the coffee table. Whatever feelings he had about their fight were on hold for the moment as worry took over his features. 

Blaine, meanwhile, was shaking with rage. “This is  _ bullshit _ .”

“Blaine…”

“This was staged!” Blaine was a yeller when he was angry, and now his rage took over completely. He would’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t so mad. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “The whole time, Sebastian was manipulating me! And I thought––I thought I knew what he was doing, I thought I was smart enough to avoid it. I’m such an idiot!”

Kurt took a step towards him. “You couldn’t have known, Blaine,” he said softly. 

It was the gentle nature of Kurt’s tone that brought Blaine back to reality. The red in his vision melted when he looked into Kurt’s eyes. He hurriedly brushed away an angry tear that spilled over onto his cheek. Stupidly, he realized he was still in nothing but his boxers, and he gave an involuntary shudder. “I’m so sorry, Kurt. As soon as he uploads that…” 

“I know.” Kurt wrapped Blaine in a hug, and Blaine let out a sigh of relief, burying his face in Kurt’s shoulder. “You were right. I was naive.”

He knew it was a big deal for Kurt to admit he was wrong. But Blaine still felt like this was all his fault. “I overreacted,” he said as he pulled back, heart wrenching when he saw Kurt looking like he was about to cry, too. “It wasn’t fair of me to get upset with you. Especially about the party thing. I don’t think you’re stupid, Kurt,  _ of course _ I don’t think that.” 

Kurt kissed his forehead, and Blaine closed his eyes. His heart pounded with a rush of emotions; anger at Sebastian, relief that Kurt had come back, shame at his actions, love for––

_ (I’m in love with Kurt.) _

The realization came so suddenly that Blaine had to grip Kurt tightly to keep from swaying on his feet. In a few short months, he had fallen for Kurt, hard and fast, free-falling without a parachute. Thinking those words, the fabled  _ I love you _ was the impact of hitting the ground at a thousand miles per hour.

“In a way, maybe it’s good this happened,” Kurt murmured against his shoulder. “I’m not sure I would’ve come back if it hadn’t.”

“I won’t let you walk away from me, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice just a whisper in the quiet of the apartment. The place could have been two square feet or two thousand. In that moment, there was nothing beyond them. “I would do anything to keep you here. Anything.”

Kurt lifted his head to meet Blaine’s eyes, lips parted slightly in surprise. Blaine felt himself blushing. He looked down at the floor. More than anything, he wanted to say those three words now that they were in his head. But it was too soon, and things were about to get messy.

When Kurt didn’t say anything, Blaine leaned his forehead against his shoulder. “This is our first real fight, isn’t it?” he said.

“It probably won’t be our last. Sebastian will make sure of that.”

Blaine craned his neck to capture Kurt’s lips. The gentle pressure of his mouth stitched together all of the pieces of his heart that had broken off when Kurt had slammed the door. He put both hands on Kurt’s jaw, inhaling through his nose to breathe in his familiar scent. Kurt kissed him back with vigour. 

“Should we talk about––”

“No more talking,” Kurt interrupted, silencing him with another firm kiss. 

He had so much more to say. He wanted to apologize again, he wanted to tell Kurt that Sebastian meant nothing to him regardless of whatever pictures he sold to the tabloids. He wanted to say that he’d follow Kurt wherever he went if it just meant he could stay by his side forever. He wanted to tell him he loved him.

But that was for another time. Without breaking the kiss, Kurt kept one hand on Blaine’s cheek and used the other to strip off his pajama pants. Blaine went to unbutton his nightshirt, wanting Kurt to be just as naked as he was. 

Blaine whined when Kurt pulled away. He reached out for him, assisting in shoving the shirt from his shoulders. “Are we about to have makeup sex?” he breathed, eyes on Kurt’s body, growing warmer as he let his hands roam across the soft lines of Kurt’s torso.

“Yes.” Kurt grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the couch, shoving him roughly onto it. Blaine fell back onto the cushions, the wind escaping him as Kurt climbed on top of him and pressed a hand to his chest to keep him on his back. 

“Y-You don’t want to go to the bedroom?” Blaine said.

“Nope.” Kurt ground his hips down and Blaine’s breath caught in his throat. This was so unlike how Kurt usually acted when they were intimate, and Blaine had never been harder in his life. He was so used to being in control, but suddenly he didn’t want to be. He would do whatever Kurt wanted. 

Kurt kissed him again, hot with breath and teeth and tongue. Blaine felt the outline of his cock through their underwear as Kurt moved his hips, dragging their bodies together roughly for friction. 

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s ass, trying to pull him closer, but Kurt caught his wrist and pinned it to his side. “No,” he breathed, hot against Blaine’s cheek.

“But I––”

The words died in his throat at Kurt’s look; his eyes, dilated with desire, told him to shut him up. His body went slack, and Kurt smiled. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmured.

“I can’t touch you?”

“No.” Kurt raised an eyebrow, a questioning look to ask if that was okay. Blaine nodded, and gripped the couch at his sides. His stomach swooped as if on the drop of a roller coaster. “Lie still,” Kurt said, and kissed the corner of his mouth before shuffling down the couch. He moved one of Blaine’s legs aside, letting it hang off the side of the couch, as he kneeled between his thighs. 

He peeled away Blaine’s boxers, tossing them aside, and stroked him slowly. Blaine bit down on his lip, leaning his head back against the arm rest, losing himself to the feeling of Kurt’s hands. Hand soon gave way to tongue, and it took all of Blaine’s effort not to bury his fingers in Kurt’s hair. 

His hips twitched upwards and Kurt lay his forearm firmly across his hip bones to keep him still as he continued his machinations with his mouth. Blaine’s eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the stars erupting behind his eyelids so that he would last longer. 

Everything went cold. Kurt cleared his throat and said his name. Blaine blinked open his eyes and looked down at him. Kurt was watching him with dark eyes. “You’re quiet,” he said, like an accusation.

Breathless, Blaine laughed. “I’m trying not to wake the whole building.”

“Don’t. I want to hear you,” Kurt said. 

“Jesus, Kurt.” He squirmed under Kurt’s grip, getting antsy from the lack of contact. He made a sound of exasperation when Kurt sat back, breaking their touch completely. 

Kurt got up and wiggled out of his underwear. He stood over Blaine, fully in view, like perfect porcelain. He gave a cheeky smile. “How am I supposed to know if you’re enjoying yourself if I can’t hear you?” he asked.

Glued to the spot, Blaine could only mouth wordlessly, at a loss for speech. That seemed to be enough for Kurt, who slowly–– _ agonizingly slowly _ ––nestled between Blaine’s knees, bracketing his head with his hands. He dipped his head to kiss Blaine’s neck, careful to keep their hips apart, while Blaine could only lie there, gripping the couch cushions so he would stay still.

Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine’s throat, and Blaine swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Kurt’s chin. He felt like a leaky gas stove, ready to ignite the moment Kurt struck a match. 

After a few minutes of Kurt kissing, sucking, nipping at his neck, he struck. A swift movement of his hips aligned their cocks, and Kurt moved his hand to grip them both. Blaine let out a shuddering moan that was far louder than he would usually allow. It was past midnight, and if his neighbours heard––

Kurt suddenly gripped his hips and tugged him closer in a rough movement, angling him up slightly so that they slotted together perfectly. All of Blaine’s thoughts left him in an instant.

“Hook your leg around my waist,” Kurt said, and Blaine did so without hesitation. Both of them were sweating now, a few tiny droplets inching down Kurt’s chest like it was a thousand degrees. Blaine was shocked their sweat didn’t just evaporate from the heat. 

“Kurt, please, I need––I want––” He lifted his hands to grip Kurt’s shoulders, and Kurt didn’t complain, just met Blaine’s mouth, silent permission to do what he liked. They moved together, hips rocking into the couch so that it began to squeak and shudder with each downward motion. 

Blaine’s head was filled with a Kurt-induced fog, not even thinking as he moved. They weren’t so much kissing anymore as they were breathing into one another. Blaine didn’t hold back his vocalization, moaning and swearing against Kurt’s mouth, increasing in volume as the pressure built inside of him. 

His movements stuttered, and Kurt sensed he was close, releasing his grip on himself to focus on Blaine. His unexpected, forceful, “Come for me, Blaine,” sent him over the edge. Blaine was unable to contain his voice as he called Kurt’s name, nails digging into his back and thighs squeezing around his hips. When the long, drawn out orgasm finally subsided, he felt a hand rubbing his thigh soothingly. Kurt was gripping his own cock as he looked down at Blaine, apparently pleased with himself. 

Blaine swallowed and tried to regain his breath, but with Kurt looking at him like that, it was hard. He loosened his grip on Kurt, realizing there were probably ten crescent-shaped indents on his back. “Kurt,” he said. “I want you to come on me.”

Kurt’s mouth formed a little o-shape and his wrist paused it’s movement. “Really?” he said. 

Blaine laughed and looked down at himself. “You worried about getting me messy?” he teased. 

Kurt shook his head and resumed pumping his cock. “Okay, okay. I’m close.” 

“C’mere.” Blaine sat up on his elbows to meet Kurt halfway, kissing him roughly, taking the lead while Kurt became unraveled. Soon Kurt swore, pressed their foreheads together and they both watched as he came on Blaine’s chest, milky white meeting his tanned, sweaty skin. 

After Kurt had a moment to come down, Blaine rubbed his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “God, you’re amazing.”

Kurt looked at him, and all of the uncertainty that had disappeared now returned. “Was that… okay?” 

“Are you kidding? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re kind of sexy when you’re all controlling.”

Kurt chuckled and sat up on his knees. “We’re a mess,” he said.

“A hot mess.” Blaine kissed him chastely and swung his legs around to meet the floor, trying not to think about how his bare ass was on his expensive couch cushions. “If that’s what our makeup sex is going to be like, we should fight more often.” Kurt shoved his shoulder and Blaine grinned. 

His smile fell away as his thoughts returned to why they were there in the first place.  _ Sebastian _ . That photo would go up tomorrow, and then things would change. Their first scandal. Kurt, sharing his thoughts, began threading his fingers through Blaine’s hair, massaging his scalp comfortingly. “It’s going to be okay, you know,” he said. “Remember what you said to me when that photo of us at the coffee shop went up?”

“Social media posts have a shelf life of about two days,” Blaine recited. It was something he told himself a lot.

“Exactly. We’ll get through this, and then Sebastian will know he can’t touch us.”

Blaine nodded. He swivelled his head to look over his shoulder at Kurt. “Do you think maybe… we should take a step back for a few days?” he said, hoping it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like, we let this blow over before we let people see us together again. I don’t want anybody to harass us.”

“Blaine, you don’t need to protect me.”

“But I want to. It’s easier to be recognized if we’re together. So let’s just keep apart for a few days, let everybody forget, and then go back to the way things were.” 

He waited for Kurt to respond. The suggestion wasn’t met with immediate disgust or anger, so that was a good sign. He didn’t want to upset Kurt, not when they had just gotten over a fight and wounds were still fresh. But the idea of having people come up to them on the street, asking questions and spreading more rumours…

“Okay,” Kurt said. “We’ll take a break. But this doesn’t mean we’re broken up.”

“Of course not.” Blaine cupped Kurt’s jaw, relief flooding through him that he wasn’t angry. “We can still text, and call, and…” He smiled coyly. “We could Skype, too.”

“Alright, alright. God, you’re like a teenager sometimes.” Kurt stood up and pulled on his discarded pair of boxers.

“You love it,” Blaine teased, and stood up as well. He looked around the room. “Kurt, where the hell did you throw my underwear?”

Kurt shrugged innocently, and then stifled a laugh. “You look like such a pornstar right now,” he said, and Blaine grimaced, knowing that stark naked, covered in sweat and semen, he was very much  _ not _ the pinnacle of attractive. “I’ll go turn on the shower for you,” Kurt said, making his way towards the bedroom. “Because I am not going to sleep next to you like that.”

“Hey, you’re not exactly Mr. Clean,” Blaine shot back, circling around the couch to find his boxers in a heap on the floor. 

Kurt’s voice came from the bedroom. “Then I’ll join you! Hurry up before I lock you out!”

Blaine never moved faster in his life.

 

* * *

**Blaine:** Thank you.    
**Sebastian:** Did I finally rid you of a terribly jealous boyfriend who didn’t deserve you?   
**Blaine:** The opposite, actually.   
**Blaine:** Because of you, I just had the hottest sex of my life.   
**Blaine:** Enjoy your pictures, Sebastian, because that’s the last of my face you’ll see again.

**[contact blocked]**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter initially had a very different direction, but I got stuck so I had to rewrite it completely. I think this version is better. I think you would all like this version more since the original didn’t have them making up yet. But don’t get too comfy… more bumps in the road are ahead ;)
> 
> Title courtesy of “Nothing Breaks Like A Heart” by Mark Ronson feat. Miley Cyrus. 
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there.


	18. Don't Know What To Do

****

 

 **March** **  
** **NYC, New York**

  

“BLAINE ANDERSON A CHEATER? POP SENSATION SEEN FLIRTING WITH MYSTERY MAN DESPITE RELATIONSHIP WITH FASHION DESIGNER” 

 

Kurt read the headline with an ache in his chest. It had been five days since he had received the photo from Sebastian. Four nights since he and Blaine had spectacular make-up sex. Entirely too long since he and Blaine had been face to face.

The photo appeared on Twitter shortly after Kurt arrived home the morning after their fight. It started making the rounds on social media by the end of the day. (Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, even Snapchat––who the hell even used Snapchat anymore?) By the end of the following day, the online tabloids had picked it up, going into print the next morning. Since then, it had slowly built momentum. It was yesterday’s feature on Perez Hilton’s website among a dozen others. It had even made it into a bit on a late night talk show.

Blaine’s theory of having a two day shelf life didn’t seem to account for relationship scandals of high-profile musicians. “BLAINE ANDERSON A CHEATER?” was just one of many variations that accused him of infidelity. Those headlines made Kurt’s blood boil, because of all of the things that made Blaine _Blaine_ , cheating was definitely not one of them.

Kurt stepped off the elevator, his messenger bag hanging on one shoulder, a coffee in his hand.

Heads turned towards the sound of his heeled boots across the linoleum. Voices died down, turning the room to a vacuum. Kurt paused, his eyes cutting across the room sharply.

This is how it had been the last few days whenever he entered the office. The first day it happened, he figured that would be it, and everyone would get back to work. It seemed they still hadn’t lost interest.

He cleared his throat. “Anybody who’s too distracted to keep their eyes on their work today is fired,” he said, and continued his march to his office. Thankfully, his feigned confidence worked, and everyone returned to work.

Except Brittany, who met him at the door of his office. “Hi, Kurt.”

“Brittany.” Kurt cocked his head, surprised to see her. “You haven’t shown up for work in days. Care to explain why?”

“Because I was working on a _special project_.” Brittany’s eyes sparkled with wonder, her usual dreamy look replaced with a unique expression of determination.

“Can we talk in my office?” Kurt was anxious to get out of the eyes of his employees.

“In a minute. There’s a gift for you inside. First I need to explain my genius.” She cleared her throat. “I, Brittany S. Pierce, went back to Ohio for my special project which I have titled _Operation Unicorn Protector_.”

“The unicorn in this situation being me?”

“Obviously.” She gave him a look like, _Duh_. “On my travels, I found a very special someone to bring back in order to help you.”

“If you’re about to say my dad is in there…”

“No, don’t be silly, he’d never fit in my suitcase,” Brittany said. “I brought you…” She pulled him through the doors to his office struck a pose, outstretching her hands as if to say _ta-da!_ “Santana!"

The woman in question was lounging in his office chair, her heeled feet propped up on his desk, a devilish grin on her face, sleek black hair tied in a high ponytail. “Hello, Porcelain.”

“Santana?” Kurt said, blinking at the woman in front of him.

Brittany applauded lightly, looking very pleased with herself. “I convinced her to drop her job as a junior cheerleading instructor to come here and be your publicist.”

Kurt blinked, the gears turning in his head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Santana stood up, circling around the desk to slink towards him, her hips swaying confidently. She hadn’t aged a day since the last time he saw her. “Look, Kurt, we’ve talked about me representing you for so long that I figured it was about time. When Brittany came to ask me, I had to say yes. Besides, you need it.” Her smile grew. “Who knew Blaine Anderson was such a player?”

“He’s _not_ ,” Kurt sighed. He dropped his bag on the floor by the wall and stripped off his jacket and scarf. “The whole photo was staged.”

“By who?” Santana asked, settling against the edge of his desk to listen.

“Sebastian Smythe, the photographer? Blaine did a photoshoot with him, and Sebastian planned to have that picture taken at the worst possible moment.” Kurt sat down on one of his canary yellow chairs. Brittany went to sit beside Santana. He noted how close they were sitting and filed that thought away for later.

“What a rat,” Santana said.

“More like a weasel,” Kurt grumbled. “Honestly, it’s good you’re here, Santana. I don’t know how these news outlets got my number, but my phone is suddenly blowing up.”

Santana twirled her ponytail around her finger. “Don’t worry,” she said, eyes alight with excitement. “Auntie Snix will fend them off.”

They took the next hour to make some decisions, the first of which being that Kurt needed a new number. Santana supported the idea that he and Blaine were taking a break from making public appearances, and she resolved that when the time was right, they would get Sebastian back for being such a snake.

After assuring Santana that he would get her Wes’ number, they said goodbye and he sent both women away for the day, hoping that they would use it as an opportunity to reconnect. He had always liked Santana and Brittany together, but Brittany was notoriously impossible to get clear information out of so he hadn’t heard anything about Santana in ages.

Kurt had an afternoon full of business meetings. In the months since the Grammys, more and more people became interested in him as a designer. He’d gotten offers from _Vogue_ , _Elle_ and a few other minor brands for positions at their offices, but he’d declined. Kurt Hummel wanted to be his own brand, and now that his dreams were in reach, he wasn’t going to let his name be overshadowed.

He now had a consistent stream of clients, slow but steady, and had had several meetings with investors. If things kept up the way they were going, there was a good chance that within a year, he’d be able to move to a bigger office space with better-trained, better-paid staff.

All of his dreams were coming true.

As he left his last meeting of the day, Kurt’s phone rang. Expecting another media outlet, he lifted his phone to decline the call––until he saw his dad’s name on the call display. Breathing a sigh of relief, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo. Still at work?”

“Just left, actually.” Kurt stepped into the elevator, buttoning his coat with one hand as he said, “Everything’s going great. _Marie Claire_ wants some garments for a spread in their summer issue! But that’s top secret, so don’t go telling anyone.”

“I wouldn’t if I could, Kurt, ‘cause I don’t know what the hell all that means.”

The elevator opened to the ground floor and Kurt strolled through the lobby to the street. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask how you were. Is everything okay? Carole doing well? The shop making enough money?”

“Slow down, Kurt, everything’s fine. I called to ask how _you_ were doing.”

“Me?” Kurt groaned internally when he saw a cluster of people by the side of the building. In the glow of the sunset, the flash of a camera told him that they were waiting for him. Again. He turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. “I’m fine.”

“Just fine, huh? Carole showed me a picture of your boyfriend with some guy. Didn’t look like you.”

The accusation in Burt’s tone made Kurt cringe. “I _told_ her to stop looking at tabloids. Don’t worry, Dad, it’s just a misunderstanding. The media likes rumours. Trust me, Blaine is as faithful as ever.” He couldn’t help smiling. “We had a fight, but it lasted about an hour.”

“So you two are okay?”

“We’re perfect.”

He heard his father grunt, as if disbelieving. “I wanna meet this Blaine guy.”

“Blaine and I are both too busy right now to fly out to Ohio, Dad. I’ve got work, Blaine’s recording an album, and he’s got this secret project he refuses to tell me about… _Celebrities_ , honestly. Anyway, I’m sure he’d love to meet you, though.” Kurt would rather have run away to the Himalayas than have Blaine and Burt in the same room, knowing how protective his father was and how eager Blaine was to please.

“Huh. Good thing I’m planning to come to you, then.”

Kurt nearly dropped his phone. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Don’t forget you got me money for a plane ticket for Christmas. Maybe it’s about time I cash it in.”

“You don’t have to––”

“Not a question, Kurt. I’m comin’. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

Kurt looked over his shoulder. There were some people behind him. Paranoid, he stopped in his tracks to hail a taxi. His apartment was only a few blocks away, but the thought of being followed chilled him beyond the brisk March air. “I guess that would be okay,” he said.

“Good. Make sure Blaine’s got time off, ‘cause I’m taking you two out to dinner.”

“Oh, Dad, it’s probably not good if we go out in public,” Kurt said as a taxi pulled up in front of him. He quickly climbed inside and rattled off his address. “How about I cook dinner for you both? We can just stay in my apartment and have a nice night in.”

“Hm. Alright, but none of that health food crap.”

“ _Dad_.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. I know you’re doin’ it.”

“Nothing gets past you.” He smiled fondly as the taxi pulled up to his apartment. He quickly thanked the driver, paid, and climbed out, rushing inside before anyone could see him. “So two weeks?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, I’ll clear my schedule. But Dad?”

“Yes, Kurt?”

“Don’t go ‘Full Burt Hummel’ on him, please.”

His dad laughed loudly and full of heart, and Kurt had to laugh, too. “Alright, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later, Dad.”

Kurt slid his phone into his pocket right as he reached his front door. He punched in the pin code and the door beeped and opened. Expecting the apartment to be dark, a quiet unease fell over him as he entered the apartment to see the foyer light on.

He paused in the doorway, quickly going through his morning in his mind to see if he forgot to turn the lights off. Slowly, he made his way into the apartment, heart pounding, taking his phone back out of his pocket to dial 911, thumb hovering over the call button.

He froze.

Blaine was sitting on his couch.

Kurt let out the breath he was holding. “God, Blaine! You scared me!”

Blaine beamed at him and stood up, walking over to give him a greeting kiss. “Surprise?” he said with an unsure expression.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call the police.” Kurt smiled and, noticing Blaine was wearing a bowtie, tweaked it playfully. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

“But how’d you get in?”

Blaine’s eyes shifted mischievously. “I forced Rachel to give me the code,” he admitted. He took Kurt’s hand and swung it between them, rocking on his heels.

“Seems like you two are getting along now.” Rachel’s protective streak seemed to have worn off, if she was willing to help Blaine out. It had been a rough start, but he knew that once people started seeing Blaine the way he did, they would realize how perfect they were together.

_(dad better go easy on him)_

“Blaine, I know you didn’t just break into my apartment because you wanted to see me,” Kurt said, raising an eyebrow at him. “While it’s very romantic, it’s also very, very suspicious.”

Instead of answering, Blaine moved to kiss him again. Despite his questions, Kurt savoured it this time, breathing in his familiar scent. Had it only been a few days? It suddenly felt like months. The slide of Blaine’s lips was intoxicating, and he relaxed against his chest, looping his arms around his neck.

Blaine pulled back just a fraction. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered. The ghost of breath across his lips made Kurt’s spine tingle. His mind went to dark places at the hint of a _surprise_ , but as Blaine took his hands and led him to the kitchen, those thoughts slipped away.

The dimly lit room was lined with candles. The table was set, a bouquet of red and yellow roses in the centre. And there was food laid out—pancakes, fruit, bacon, eggs, and more. Kurt let out a small gasp, breathless from the display.

“I thought I would recreate the gift you gave me on Christmas Day,” Blaine said. He shifted nervously. “I know it’s breakfast for dinner, but—”

“It’s amazing.” Kurt hugged him, smiling against his shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, before pulling back to give him a long, thankful kiss.

When he finally pulled away, Blaine looked utterly flustered, a flush creeping up from his collar. Kurt loved how he could do that to him with just a kiss.

“Shall we?” Blaine said, gesturing to the table.

“We shall.”

Blaine pulled out a chair for him, and Kurt sat down. His eyes roamed over the selection of foods. He didn’t know where to start. “Did you make all of this?”

“Not exactly... I had help from Sam, and Jeff… and David,” Blaine said as he sat across from him. “Unless you think that’s less impressive, and then yes, I did it all myself.”

They both laughed as Blaine picked up a bottle of white wine from the table. “I know wine doesn’t traditionally go with breakfast, but…”

“Pour away.”

The food was delicious. Conversation flowed as well as the wine, and by the time their plates were cleared, the whole bottle was nearly empty. Blaine poured generously—so generously, in fact, that Kurt began to grow suspicious again. It was a lovely date, but he felt unsure as to why it was necessary. Something felt off about Blaine. He had a nervous energy about him and couldn’t quite sit still.

Kurt started to clear the table, but Blaine waved him off, grumbling something about how it was _his_ date, so he was responsible for clean-up. He watched Blaine put the plates in the sink, moving silently, the room filling with a faint clatter of silverware. He moved stiffly, not looking at Kurt.

It was too much for Kurt to stand. “Okay, who died?” he said, breaking the silence.

Blaine paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting weird. Surprising me like this… don’t get me wrong, it’s romantic, and I love it. But we did agree to not see each other for a while, and suddenly you’re here. So what’s going on?”

He saw Blaine’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He moved to sit in the chair beside Kurt. “Give me your hands.” Wary, Kurt let Blaine take both of his hands in his own. Blaine met his eyes, face full of seriousness. “Kurt, I want you to know that I care about you so, so much.”

There was a sinking feeling in Kurt’s stomach. His heart hammered against his ribs. “Oh god. You’re breaking up with me?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “No, no! I’m not! Definitely not. It’s just…” he sighed. “Over the past six months or so my team has been organizing this, um… well…”

“Your secret project? Please, Blaine, just tell me before I have a heart attack.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m going on tour.”

There was a pause. Blaine watched him expectantly. Kurt frowned. “Is... that it?”

“Wha— _yes_ , that’s it. I’m going on _tour_ , Kurt. Internationally. We finalized the dates today.”

“Oh.” Kurt was confused. “How long?”

Blaine gauged his expression carefully as he said, “Eight months.”

Kurt sucked in a breath. Oh _. That_ was why it was a big deal. “Eight months,” he repeated. “Wow.”

“Yeah. We’re going to announce it in a few weeks, but I wanted you to be the first to know. It’s starting at the end of May. I’m going all over North America, with a small leg in the UK.”

Kurt forced a smile. “That’s amazing, Blaine.”

Blaine smiled sadly, and began tracing the veins on Kurt’s arm with the tip of his finger absently. “You don’t have to pretend, Kurt. It sucks. I wish I could ask you to come with me, but I know you have to stay here.”

Kurt nodded. Everything at work was going so well for him. There was no way he could possibly just up and leave. He couldn’t, on good conscience, put anyone, even Blaine, before his career. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Do?” Blaine echoed. His eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing, Kurt. This doesn’t change anything between us. You’re still my boyfriend. I’ll miss you, but we’ll keep in contact. Maybe you could even come to a few shows. There’s gonna be a New York show, one in Ohio…” He smiled. “I’ll have a few short breaks to come back, like at Christmas. We can make it work.”

Kurt nodded, but the hollow feeling in his chest was still there. Eight months without Blaine. They’d only been together since December, but already eight months felt like a lifetime alone. And once Blaine got out into the world, would he care about Kurt anymore? Would he forget that there was a man at home waiting for him? He knew the stories of musicians on tour. In every city there were men more attractive than him.

“Kurt?”

Kurt blinked, coming back to the present when he felt Blaine squeezing his hands. He tried to smile, the words coming out mechanically as he said, “I’m happy for you, Blaine. Really. This is going to be such a great opportunity for you.”

Blaine learned in and kissed him. Kurt responded automatically, even though his mind was elsewhere. For the first time, he was numb to Blaine’s lips, barely registering his touch.

Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s neck, keeping him close as he whispered. “I’m not going to forget you, you know. Even these few days without you, all I wanted was to be right here.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kurt said hollowly.

_(or at least you will.)_

 

* * *

 

Blaine left Kurt’s apartment later that night. They shared a stilted goodbye kiss and nothing more. As Blaine slipped into his ride, he couldn’t help but feel like the night had gone horribly wrong.

Kurt said he was happy for Blaine, but Blaine knew better. Something about the news had troubled him, and Blaine suspected it was the worry of them not making it through those eight months. It had worried him too, at first, but then he’d spent time thinking about how they could stay connected. Walking into Kurt’s apartment, he’d felt confident that they would make it. But now, it seemed like Kurt didn’t even want to try.

The words had been on the tip of his tongue. _I love you._ He wanted to assure Kurt that he wasn’t looking for anything else; he had everything he wanted with him. He loved Kurt, but he couldn’t say it. The time wasn’t right. Especially when he didn’t know if Kurt felt the same.

With Blaine on the road, would Kurt be waiting when he got back? Or would he find another more reliable New York City man who wouldn’t go leaving the state for months at a time?

He would have to tell Kurt that he loved him before he left the city. He couldn’t leave without saying it, without Kurt knowing that no matter what happened, at the end of those eight months, he wanted to come home to the same man he left behind.

All he needed was a little courage.

_(Courage.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shh, I know it’s been almost 7 years since “The Break Up” aired (wow, has it really been that long?) and I know that canonically Blaine cheated, but _NOT IN MY CANON, OKAY._ ~~Seasons 4-6 are dead to me.~~ So maybe this chapter is my excuse to reinforce my agenda of Blaine Anderson not being a cheater.
> 
> Anyway. I told y’all there would be bumps in the road. Forgive me for the next few chapters; not everything can be sunshine and rainbows.
> 
> Title courtesy of “Don’t Know What To Do” by Blackpink.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there.


	19. Call It What You Want To

****

 

**April**   
**NYC, New York**

Burt Hummel was in New York City.

Kurt waited at the arrivals terminal, a white card clutched in his hands that simply read “DAD” in bold letters, bordered by a swirly pattern that Blaine had helped draw. Blaine had wanted to stand with him when Burt arrived, but Kurt assured him that it would be better for him to wait at the apartment. An airport was no place for a first impression, especially not when Blaine was likely to be recognized. Being swarmed by fans wasn’t the way Kurt wanted his dad to first see his boyfriend.

So he had left Blaine in his apartment, instructing him to make sure not a speck of dust settled on any surface while he was gone. Blaine had dutifully accepted the task, and given him a kiss of good luck. 

Kurt needed it. It had been months since he had seen his father, not for a lack of trying, but he was just so  _ busy _ . Work was picking up with hurricane wind speeds, thankfully, but his lack of social life was driving him insane. Besides his dates with Blaine, he rarely got out of the office or his apartment. A break to relax with his dad and his boyfriend was exactly what he needed.

Though if it was up to Kurt, he might have preferred it was just him and Burt. Things with Blaine lately had been…  _ wrong _ . Ever since Blaine told him about leaving for eight months, Kurt’s heart felt like it was beating slightly off-rhythm. The more time that passed, the more Kurt was sure that their time apart during Blaine’s tour wouldn’t go as smoothly as Blaine anticipated. 

Blaine was dangerously out of his league; that much was obvious to Kurt. He was dreading having to introduce Blaine to his father, going through the motions of such an anxiety-inducing event, all the while a voice at the back of his mind telling him that it wasn’t going to be worth it when Blaine took off and fell in love with some other man in Chicago, or San Francisco, or god forbid, Nashville. 

A new wave of bodies came through the doors, and Kurt forced himself back to the present. It was about time for his dad to arrive. He lifted the white card, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, scanning the crowd for a familiar baseball cap…

Strolling through with nothing more than a backpack slung over one shoulder, Burt Hummel emerged from the crowd. Kurt waved an arm wildly, shouting “Dad!” over the din of arrivals, until finally Burt noticed him, his face lighting up.

Burt threw his arms around his son, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. He plucked the sign out of Kurt’s hands, beaming. “Cute. Think I wouldn’t recognize ya?”

“Well, my level of fabulousness does increase exponentially the more time I spend in this city.” Kurt couldn’t stop smiling. His dad looked in good health, maybe even a little bit thinner. “Have you been eating better?” he asked.

“Carole’s wearing me down.” 

“Thank God for her.” Kurt led Burt towards the exit, anxious to get back. The faster the introductions with Blaine were over, the better. “Come on, let’s find a taxi.”

After an excruciating taxi ride through the congested NYC traffic, Kurt felt just about caught up to his dad’s life over the past few months. He let Burt ramble on about the garage, Carole, his new diet and flying to DC every so often for Congress. There was a lot to tell, and Kurt suddenly felt like he had missed out on so much while he was in New York, living the highlife––comparatively speaking. His modest life in Ohio had felt so far away, but now here it was again, kicking him in the shins. 

Kurt took the backpack from his father after stepping out of the taxi, wondering how he managed to fit a weekend’s worth of luggage into such a small bag. 

“Jeez, taxis are expensive, huh?” Burt said, his head tilting up to marvel at Kurt’s apartment building. It wasn’t a very impressive place to live, compared to Blaine’s apartment, but his dad didn’t know that.

“It’s okay, Dad. Work’s been good, so I don’t mind spending a bit.” He stepped up the front stoop of the building and unlocked the door, letting his dad trail behind him up the stairs to the loft. 

“Blaine upstairs?”

“Uh-huh. He’s excited to meet you.” Kurt had sent Blaine a text in the car to make sure he knew they were coming. Blaine had only responded with several exclamation points. 

His dad just hummed, which Kurt took to mean that he was excited too but didn’t want to admit it. He just hoped that Burt wouldn’t pick up on the awkwardness between him and Blaine, the strange emotional distance that neither of them would bring up. That was an elephant in the room to address another day.

He punched in the code for his apartment and led his dad inside. Burt had seen the place before, so why was he nervous? The answer came when Blaine appeared in the foyer, eyes bright with nerves and enthusiasm. The first few moments of this conversation would dictate a lot about how Burt responded to their relationship.

“Hey, how was the traffic?” Blaine said, stepping forward and taking the backpack from Kurt’s hands. “Here, let me take that.” Kurt froze when he pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling the burn of his father’s gaze. Blaine didn’t seem to notice; he turned to Burt and smiled. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hummel,” he said, extending his hand.

Burt’s eyes flickered between Blaine and his son for just a moment before he took Blaine’s hand with a short, decisive shake. “You too,” he said, and Kurt noted with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he didn’t insist Blaine call him Burt. 

There was the usual shuffle of removing coats and hanging them up. Kurt shooed Blaine away, telling him to put his dad’s pack in his room, and Blaine obeyed dutifully.

“Be nice,” Kurt hissed to his dad, exasperated that things were already falling apart.

“I  _ am _ bein’ nice. Did he really have to kiss you? It’s not like I need him to  _ prove _ he likes you. I’ve seen the pictures, for Pete’s sake,” Burt said, rolling his shoulders once free of his jacket. He always got stiff after plane rides.

“His parents aren’t that supportive, Dad. He’s just trying to make a good impression,” Kurt said, but secretly he wished Blaine wouldn’t try so hard. The last thing he needed was for Burt to think Blaine was putting on a show; he knew there was already an expectation that fame made people fake, and while he knew that wasn’t true for Blaine, his dad didn’t.

He put on a pot of coffee when Blaine rejoined them. Blaine grabbed three mugs and set out milk and sugar on the breakfast table while Burt wandered around the space, examining Kurt’s decor. He did this every time, as if trying to find something new. 

As he poured the coffee, he saw his dad examining the window well where he had several plants. “These new?” Burt asked, brushing his fingers over the leaves of his ZZ plant. 

“Yes. I killed the last ones,” Kurt grumbled.

“I keep telling him there’s not enough light in that window,” Blaine said, and Kurt shot him a glare.

Burt let out an amused huff. “His mom was the same way. Couldn’t keep a plant alive no matter how hard she tried.” He turned away from the window, and his eyes caught the acoustic guitar propped against the couch. He looked at Blaine. “That yours?”

“Oh, yeah. Kurt’s place has better acoustics than mine, so he lets me keep that here,” Blaine explained.

“Coffee’s ready,” Kurt said quickly, and the three of them sat around the table as he brought over the coffee pot. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his dad to ask Blaine about music, but there was a fear at the back of his mind that the more Burt was reminded of Blaine’s career, the less willing he would be to accept their relationship.

Burt watched Blaine over the rim of his mug as he sipped his coffee black, eyes narrowed. “You stay over here a lot, Blaine?” he asked as he set down his cup.

“Uh…” Blaine glanced to Kurt for help. Kurt just gave a near-imperceptible shrug of his shoulder as if to say,  _ you’re on your own _ . Burt Hummel was a test, and Kurt didn’t want Blaine to be caught cheating. Blaine cleared his throat. “Sometimes, sir. Kurt and I both have busy schedules, so it’s nice to enjoy whatever time together we can. Plus Kurt makes a better cup of coffee in the morning than I do.”

Kurt wasn’t sure, but he could swear there was something of a smile in his dad’s eyes. Maybe he was imagining it. Either way, Blaine’s response had made Kurt smile. 

Burt nodded and looked to Kurt. “So how about this dinner you were talking about, huh? I’m starving.”

Kurt gave a playful roll of his eyes and stood up. “I’ll get started. You two… play nicely.”

At once, both Blaine and Burt responded with, “Yes, Kurt.” Burt laughed, and Blaine gave a nervous chuckle. Kurt shook his head and let the two of them slide into an easier conversation. The most difficult part was over, he thought. If Burt didn’t already like Blaine, he was at least warming up to him. Kurt could live with that.

He listened as he cooked. His dad made sure to not-so-subtly quiz Blaine on things like cars, sports, and music, which were his favourite topics. Kurt was more than happy to stay out of that conversation. His heart swelled with pride every time one of Blaine’s answers got a positive response from Burt. By the time he was pulling the chicken and roasted vegetables out of the oven, he was sure that Burt was ready to accept Blaine as a son-in-law.

“I wasn’t sure what your taste would be like, considering...” Burt’s words trailed away, and Kurt cringed internally. He chanced a look at his dad, and saw Burt’s embarrassment at his own remark. “Not that pop music is bad, but it’s important for a man to appreciate the classics,” he amended quickly.

Blaine didn’t take any offence. “I was raised on classic rock, sir. I used to sit in the basement all day and listen to my dad’s old records.”

“That’s enough with the ‘sirs’, Blaine,” Burt said. “You make me feel older every time you say it. Just Burt’s fine.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Burt.”

Kurt cleared his throat as he took off his oven mitts. Both men turned to him, surprised, as if they’d forgotten he was there. “Blaine, can you set the table please?” Kurt said, and Blaine eagerly leapt from his seat to help. Burt started to stand, but Kurt raised a hand to stop him. “It’s okay, Dad, we’ve got it.”

“One of these days you gotta stop treating me like an old man, Kurt.”

“I’m not, I’m treating you like a  _ guest _ .” His dad grumbled something unintelligible in response as Kurt grabbed the cutlery and Blaine set out plates. Once the three of them were settled, they dug into the meal, letting the conversation turn idle as they filled their stomachs.

 

* * *

They were just finishing dinner when there was a rapid, persistent knocking at the door.

All three of them looked up, none of them moving, unsure who it could be. “I’ll be back in a second,” Kurt said, standing and disappearing into the foyer. Blaine kept his eyes on his plate, afraid to be alone with Burt. 

So far, he felt good about meeting Kurt’s dad. Beyond the initial awkwardness, they got along quite well. Blaine hoped that he hadn’t been lulled into a false sense of security now that they were alone. He pushed the last few pieces of broccoli around his plate as his ears strained to hear who was at the door.

There was a low but urgent murmur of voices, and then Rachel’s clear, distinctive voice called out, “Hi, Burt!”

“Hey, Rachel,” Burt called back, amused by the interruption.

Kurt’s head appeared in the doorway, his face laced with annoyance. “I need to talk to Rachel outside for a minute. Blaine, if you could start––”

“I’m on it,” Blaine said, beginning to collect the dishes and make a pile in front of him. 

“Thank you!” Kurt disappeared again, and the room went quiet, the distance slam of the front door signalling that they were truly alone. Blaine kept his head down as he carried the plates to the sink.

“Want some help?” Burt asked.

“No, that’s okay, there’s not too much.” Blaine scraped the dregs of their plates into the compost bin one by one.

He heard Burt let out a short laugh. “I ain’t Medusa, Blaine. You don’t have to avoid lookin’ at me.”

Blaine looked up, eyes wide. “Oh, I wasn’t––”

“It’s okay. I won’t bite. Promise.” His face screwed up in thought as he saw Blaine place the dishes in the sink. “It’s funny, you never think about celebrities doing dishes.”

Blaine felt his face flush. The apartment suddenly felt much warmer. What was he supposed to say to that? He hated being called that; it made him feel alien. It certainly wasn’t how he wanted Kurt’s father to see him. He’d hoped that after their conversations, Burt might just see him as a normal person.

Instead of answering, Blaine gave a half-hearted smile. “You know, uh, Burt, Kurt’s really lucky to have a dad like you,” he said, hoping he wasn’t about to overstep. He leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “My dad hasn’t ever come out to visit me for a weekend. I’ve lived in New York for years and the only time I get to see my parents is when I go back to Ohio.”

_ (go big or go home, nothing’s more humanizing than having a shitty family) _

“Sorry to hear that.”

Blaine shook his head. “It’s alright. They don’t support me like you support Kurt. What you and he have is really special.”

Burt considered him, nodding slowly. “After losing Kurt’s mom, I realized that no matter what, I had to be there for my kid. I’m sure you can understand why I’m so protective of him.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Blaine smiled. “I care about Kurt more than I can say. I know that might be hard to believe because of the kind of life I live, but––”

“I can believe it.” Burt stood up and came over to look him in the eye. Blaine’s nerves threatened to make him crumble on the spot. “Kurt’s been through a lot. With losing his mom, and getting bullied, and not being accepted to the school he wanted. When he said he wanted to move to New York anyway, I wasn’t so sure. But seeing where it got him… Seems like it was worth it.” Burt put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “I won’t lie, I’m still not a hundred percent happy about the situation. All the pictures and the parties freak me out. But clearly you make him happy, and that’s good enough for me.”

Blaine blinked, taken aback by such a speech. “Th-thank you, Mr. Hummel. It means a lot to have your approval. I lo––” He stopped himself, face reddening. “I look forward to seeing you more in the future,” he said quickly.

_ I love Kurt _ . That’s what he had been about to say. Where had that come from? He couldn’t even tell Kurt, yet here he was, nearly saying the words to his father. He couldn’t tell from Burt’s face if he’d caught the near-slip, so he turned away and opened the dishwasher to begin loading it. He felt Burt’s eyes on him for a few moments before the older man let out a quiet _ hmph _ and moved over to help him.

_ (where the hell is Kurt anyway?) _

 

* * *

The door slammed behind Kurt, and he leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He straightened to his full height, using it to his full advantage to glare down at Rachel. “You better have a good reason for interrupting us. I don’t know how long I can leave Blaine and my dad alone.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. This is more important.” 

Kurt very much doubted it, but he decided not to fight her on that. “Okay, so, what’s this about Santana?”

“Brittany told Artie who told Tina who told Mercedes who told  _ me _ that Santana is now your  _ publicist _ ?” Rachel said in a rush, not even taking a moment to breathe. “How could you not consult me on this?”

“Because it has nothing to do with you,” Kurt said. “And this is definitely not as important as my boyfriend meeting my dad for the first time, so I’m just gonna––”

“ _ Kurt! _ It is important!” Rachel snapped. “Don’t you remember when Santana was my publicist?”

“Yes, for like, a few weeks.”

“That is exactly my point! All she did for me was tell me I needed to find a cause to support, and then a few weeks later she got bored and dropped me!” Rachel threw up her hands as if this was the worst event that had ever occurred in her life. “Kurt, what makes you think Santana actually cares about representing you? For all you know she could be using you to get back with Brittany.”

“She doesn’t need to use me for that,” Kurt said. “And anyway, it’s not like I had to seek out Santana to do this. We’d talked about it before, and  _ she _ came to  _ me _ to offer her help. She even quit her job to come here.”

“See? Impulsive.” Rachel poked his chest with her finger. “Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”

“You and Santana never got along, and I didn’t ask for your opinion on her.” Kurt was getting antsy, cornered against the door. Where was his Prince Charming to swoop in and save him when he needed it? “Look, Rachel, at this point I  _ need _ a publicist. All of this stuff with Blaine has changed everything, and the company is growing. I don’t have time to manage everything anymore, so yeah, when Santana said she’d do it, I said yes. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll hire someone else, but right now this is what’s happening.”

Rachel deflated. “I just don’t want to see her mess things up for you like she did for me. I could’ve really used her help after she dropped me. It’s hard to find people who are good at that job.”

“Santana’s been doing a great job so far,” Kurt told her. “So please, don’t worry about me. Worst comes to worst, I’ll ask for help from Blaine’s publicist.”

“Has he met Santana?”

“Not yet. Rachel, I really have to go. The longer I leave them alone, the more likely my dad is to go Full Burt Hummel on my boyfriend.”

Rachel hesitated, but at Kurt’s stern look, she relented. “Alright, go.” She perched on her tiptoes to kiss Kurt’s cheek. “Good luck.”

“Bye, Rachel.” 

When Kurt stepped back into the apartment, there was music playing. He followed the sound of  _ Danger Zone _ into the kitchen, Kenny Loggins mingling with Blaine’s angelic voice.

Burt was standing next to the half-loaded dishwasher, clapping his hands along to the beat as Blaine sung into a wooden spoon like a microphone. Kurt leaned against the doorframe to watch. He’d been gone only a few minutes, and Blaine was giving his dad a concert. 

_ (never thought I’d be  _ **_afraid_ ** _ of them getting along) _

Blaine finished the performance by jumping on one of the chairs as Burt hooted and clapped. The music faded and Kurt joined in the applause, startling both of them. Blaine jumped off the chair. “Kurt! I didn’t hear you come back in.”

“This guy’s got a set of pipes!” Burt clapped Blaine on the back, which only made Blaine smile harder. “I could’a sworn I was being serenaded by Kenny Loggins himself.”

“You two are like a house on fire. What have I done?” Kurt brushed past them, smiling to himself, to finish loading the dishes. 

“Hey, Blaine was the one who offered to sing,” Burt said.

“I–I did not,” Blaine stammered, scoffing. “I told him that I always listen to music while I do the dishes. It’s not my fault I can’t resist singing along to  _ Danger Zone _ .”

They continued to bicker, leaving Kurt to finish cleaning up. He was strangely confused by what had happened. His dad really seemed to like Blaine, and vice versa. There had been no expected awkwardness from leaving them alone. Burt clearly approved of Blaine, despite the celebrity status, and didn’t seem put off by the domestic nature of their relationship only three months into it.

So why did he feel like the world was ending?

 

* * *

Hours later, Blaine announced he had to get going. He had an early recording session at the studio in the morning and wanted to be well-rested, especially since he never drank coffee beforehand as it dried out his throat. He said goodbye to Burt, surprised when the man bypassed his handshake to give him a brief hug and a pat on the back with a gruff, “Nice meeting you, kid.”

“You too, Mr. Hummel.”

“Hey, it’s  _ Burt _ . And don’t you forget it.”

Kurt looked just as stunned as Blaine did. Before he could formulate a response, Kurt said, “I’ll walk you out, Blaine,” and led him out to the foyer. 

A silence fell over them as Blaine slipped into his shoes and allowed Kurt to zip up his bomber jacket for him. Standing close, the air crackled uncomfortably around them. He looked up at Kurt’s unfocused eyes, wondering what had him so upset. 

He’d been afraid to bring up questions to Kurt for the past couple of weeks. More often than not, Kurt was very quiet when they were together. They were still keeping a distance from one another in public, even though the initial riot around the picture of him and Sebastian had subsided. Both Wes and Santana had advised not to go out together, but to keep their meetings behind closed doors for a while. 

Blaine was happy to have private moments with Kurt, but Kurt didn’t seem to have the same enthusiasm anymore. He knew that it had started after he’d told him about the tour, but Blaine was afraid to ask what exactly had upset him. That night, Kurt had insisted it was fine, but the word  _ tour  _ hadn’t passed either of their lips since. Now it felt taboo, like mentioning it might disrupt the fine line of stability they were balancing on.

Kurt’s fingers stilled on the last button of the coat, hand coming to rest on Blaine’s chest. “My dad really likes you,” he said.

“I like him, too,” Blaine said. He sighed. “Kurt––”

“The night went as well as it could’ve,” Kurt cut in. “I’m happy my dad likes you. Really.”

Blaine placed his hands over Kurt’s, holding it to his rapidly beating heart. “Kurt, remember in LA when you told me that you were still here for me, even if you didn’t understand what I was going through?” Kurt nodded. “I should’ve said it then, but the same goes for me. I’m always here to talk, no matter what’s going on in your head.”

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed. “Not now, Blaine.”

“I know. But whenever you’re ready.” 

Blaine kissed him tenderly, savouring it. He was afraid that if his suspicions were correct, and Kurt didn’t think they would make it through the next nine months, any one of their kisses could be their very last.

And that thought scared him more than anything.

 

* * *

Kurt’s walk back to the kitchen was something of a funeral march. There was a deep ache in his chest. Blaine wanted him to talk.  _ He _ wanted to talk. But what to say? Kurt had no idea. 

He stalled his return to the living room, where his dad was relaxing watching the news. That was a constant thing for Burt, now; he’d explained to Kurt when he first joined politics that you could never be too informed. Kurt heard the distant hum of the newscasters as he boiled water for tea, pulled down two mugs and opened two sachets of chamomile. 

He carried the steaming mugs out, setting one next to Burt and holding the other for himself as he settled in the corner of the couch. He sipped his tea, ignoring how it scalded his throat, and stared mindlessly at the television.

The screen went dark, and Kurt blinked, looking to his dad. Burt set down the remote and shifted to look at his son. “So. Blaine.”

“You liked him, huh?” Kurt said.

“He seems like a great guy.”

“But?”

“But I can see something’s bothering you, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed, tightening his grip on his mug. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just… work stuff, that’s all.”

Burt lifted his baseball cap, ran a hand over his head, and replaced the hat, tweaking the brim. Something he did when he was deep in thought. “It occurred to me that his music stuff might come between you two.”

“It’s not just him. My work is important, too.” Kurt wondered, if it weren’t for the success of his job, would he have wanted to accompany Blaine on tour? Would Blaine want him to go? His first instinct was  _ yes _ ––Blaine had said he wished Kurt could come––but doubt crept in. A tour sounded like a lot of work. He probably wouldn’t have had time for Kurt, anyway.

Blaine seemed so intent on making visits during the time frame of the tour, but would he feel that way once he left? Kurt’s heart ached to be apart from him, but Blaine was his own man. He didn’t  _ need _ Kurt. And if he stopped  _ wanting _ him… 

“Hey, you know me, I won’t pry,” Burt said, interrupting his thoughts. “But Kurt? Based on what I saw tonight, Blaine really cares about you. Don’t let him slip away ‘cause you’re too afraid to hold on to what you want.”

Kurt blinked, taken aback by his father’s bold words. He valued his dad’s opinions more than anyone’s. Such a strong sentiment was the last thing he had expected from Burt Hummel. He clutched his mug tightly and took a long, thoughtful drink.

_ (Don’t let him slip away.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title courtesy of “Call It What You Want” by Taylor Swift.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there!


	20. The Thrill Of It All

 

**April** **  
** **NYC, New York**

The news broke the day before.

Kurt was sewing in his spare room; he had turned it into a craft room dedicated to his personal projects and experiments since he no longer needed a roommate to pay his rent. He was listening to the melodic revving of the sewing machine, music to his ears, when his phone buzzed. He ignored it at first, continuing to work on the tailored zebra-print pants he had dedicated the day to finishing. Sewing was the only way to clear his mind lately.

A half hour later, he finished sewing and resewing the zipper and took a snack break. Popping a grape into his mouth, he opened up his phone to check his notifications.

**@BlaineAnderson tweeted:** Hey North America + UK, wanna see me serenade a crowd in a city near you? Tickets go on sale next week for the NIGHTBIRD TOUR!!

Kurt had all evening to reread the tweet and the hundreds of replies. He was still reading the next day as he sat on a bench in Battery Park, ignoring the pigeon strutting around his ankles looking for food. 

He was waiting for Blaine; it would be their first time going out in public in weeks, and Kurt was less nervous than he was frustrated. Blaine had wanted to go to  _ Central Park _ , of all places. Kurt had talked him down to Battery Park instead. If they wanted to keep a low profile, Central Park certainly wasn’t the place to be.

It was a gloriously sunny day, warm for April, and Kurt looked his best in a [pink-and-white striped button up with grey pants and matching scarf](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ee/e9/9d/eee99dc2bc4749a8d8d80ed5e7a2d2e3.jpg). It was a modest look, for him, and with a pair of sunglasses, he hadn’t been recognized yet. It didn’t happen all that often, but Blaine would be there any moment, so he was enjoying his last few moments of peace. 

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being seen with Blaine. It was quite the opposite, actually. He loved being with Blaine, truly, and he couldn’t deny that when he looked at his boyfriend, he saw a future. 

_ But did Blaine? _

“Hey there, stranger.” 

The pigeon startled, flapping its wings wildly as it took flight. Kurt looked up and saw a familiar figure striding towards him. Blaine was wearing [an adorable straw hat with a red button up covered by a white jumper that stuck to him like glue](http://www.media2.hw-static.com/wp-content/uploads/8076109.jpg). He wondered if he had gotten Unique to dress him for their date; knowing Blaine, he’d go to any lengths to make sure he didn’t disappoint.

Kurt stood up to embrace him, breathing him in. They hadn’t seen one another since almost a week earlier when Burt had come to visit. Kurt spent the rest of the weekend with his dad, giving him a tour of his office among his other favourite places in the city. There hadn’t been time since to see Blaine. Even though it hadn’t been that long, Kurt missed him.

_ (how on earth am I supposed to live without him for eight months?) _

“Walk with me?” Blaine said, reaching out his hand. 

Kurt reminded himself to smile as he linked their fingers together. They began strolling through the park, arms swinging between them. Kurt kept glancing around, self-conscious, wondering how long it would take for someone to notice them. It didn’t take long before he noted a familiar blond head pop up behind them every so often, following at a safe distance.

“Is that Sam?” Kurt asked.

“He wanted to play bodyguard,” Blaine said, smiling fondly. Kurt looked over his shoulder at Sam, who lowered his sunglasses to give Kurt a wink and an energetic thumbs-up. Blaine bumped his shoulder. “You know he’s been seeing Mercedes?”

Kurt’s eyes widened.  _ “No _ .”

“At first I thought he kept flying out to LA for photoshoots, but I started getting suspicious and he finally spilled the beans.” How did Blaine manage to say something as dorky as  _ spilled the beans _ and made it sound cute? 

“I’m definitely going to have questions for Mercedes later.” 

They walked for a few more minutes in silence. Discomfort made Kurt’s chest clench as he realized they were going to have to talk sooner or later. Blaine’s words echoed in his head.  _ Whenever you’re ready. _ He didn’t feel ready. Would he ever? Would he ever feel ready to say goodbye to Blaine?

Blaine let Kurt stew in his thoughts, not forcing him to talk. He stayed there, walking beside him in silence, squeezing Kurt’s hand every few minutes to remind him of his presence. As if Kurt needed reminding. 

Words were finally forming on his lips when suddenly an oncoming bike swerved, trying to dodge a flock of pigeons. The pigeons scattered, squawking wildly as the bike rushed towards Kurt. The cyclist nearly crashed into him; before Kurt had a chance to react Blaine tugged him out of the path of the oncoming bike roughly. The biker wobbled on his wheels and skidded to a halt. He planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

“Whoa, man! Sorry!” the cyclist exclaimed, dismounting his bike quickly. Kurt’s heart was pounding in his chest, and Blaine’s strong arms were still wound around his waist, holding him close.

“I-It’s fine,” Kurt said, trying to catch his breath. “No harm done.”

Blaine’s palm rubbed his back soothingly as he frowned at the cyclist and said, “You should really watch where you’re going.”

“I know, man, I––” The biker removed his sunglasses and squinted at Blaine. He was a young man, probably a few years on them. “Hey! You’re Blaine Anderson!”

“Ah, yeah,” Blaine said, his hands slipping away from Kurt and shoving deep into his pockets bashfully. 

“Sorry for almost steamrolling your boyfriend. Can I get a picture?” The cyclist propped his bike up on its kickstand and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

Kurt blinked as he watched Blaine nod, shooting him a look of apology. He was frozen on the spot, watching his boyfriend pose with the fan, heart still beating out of his chest from nearly being run over. 

“Thanks, man! Hey, it’s so cool that you’re all out and proud and stuff,” said the biker. “My brother’s gay, and he listens to your stuff all the time.”

“Oh, well I’m glad I could help,” Blaine said.

“Right on.”

The biker got back on his ride and waved, shouting a genial goodbye as he rode off, leaving Blaine to sigh as he returned to Kurt’s side. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Kurt said, his voice hard. He turned and continued walking. “Don’t let our date interrupt your meet-and-greet.”

“What?” Blaine hurried to catch up. “He was just being friendly, Kurt.”

“Right. After he almost ran me down.” Kurt was glad he was wearing sunglasses so that Blaine didn’t see his eyes welling up with tears. He didn’t know why he was so emotional. It was just a fan; this had happened countless times when they went out. This shouldn’t have been any different.

“Are you serious right now?” He felt a hand grip his arm and ground to a halt to face Blaine. Blaine’s face was screwed up in frustration, a muscle in his neck twitching as he said, “On our first date, you told me it was great I talked to fans. You said it was  _ sweet _ . What changed?”

“What changed? I can’t even have a moment of you to myself without someone interrupting, or––or Sam following at a safe but still creepy distance!” To punctuate his sentence he pointed to Sam, who had taken to sitting on a nearby bench with an open newspaper in front of him that he clearly wasn’t reading.

Blaine made a noise of exasperation. “You knew what this was when you signed up for this, Kurt!”

“I didn’t  _ sign up _ for anything!” Kurt yelled, and then glanced around self-consciously. He lowered his voice, hands shaking as he removed his sunglasses to wipe his eyes. “It’s not like I  _ applied _ to be your boyfriend like it’s a job,” he said bitterly. “I fell for you _ , _ Blaine, not all of that. I don’t think about all of that when I’m with you, until  _ that _ happens.” He gestured vaguely in the direction the biker had gone. Now that the words were coming, he couldn’t stop them. “I hate that we can never have a normal relationship. I hate that other people think they know us without ever meeting us, and I hate the tabloids and the gossip blogs. But I put up with it because I want  _ you _ . Why is it so much to ask that I have you to myself for one afternoon? Especially when you’re––”

He stopped mid sentence, a lump lodging in his throat. 

_ (Especially when you’re leaving me behind.) _

Tears were flowing freely now, so he hooked his glasses over the collar of his shirt and dabbed at his eyes with his scarf. He hated crying in public. He hated crying, period. Blaine had never seen him cry, not like this, not so exposed.

“Kurt…” Blaine’s soft voice made him open his eyes. Past his swimming vision he saw the soft lines of Blaine’s face, anger dissolved to worry, confusion turned to shame. He reached out for Kurt’s arm, and Kurt let him. His fingers traced Kurt’s bicep. “Kurt, how long has this been eating at you?”

“Long enough.” Kurt sniffed and prayed he wasn’t an ugly crier. He didn’t want to give Blaine any more reasons to leave him.

“Come here.” Blaine led him to the shade of a tree. When Kurt looked suspiciously at the grass, Blaine took off his jumper––his white, clean jumper––and laid it out. “Sit,” he said, and Kurt did, too drained to argue about ruining his clothes. Bitterly, and with a hint of shame, he thought it wouldn’t be hard for Blaine to just buy a new one. 

Blaine sat beside him and silently wiped at Kurt’s cheeks with his thumb. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Kurt scoffed, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the tree. “Nobody’s pretty when they cry.”

“You are.” Blaine took his hand. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel normal, Kurt.”

Kurt closed his eyes, screwing them shut to squeeze out the last few drops of tears. His eyes burned, and he knew they were red and puffy. Blaine’s words twisted like a knife in his chest, because Blaine was the only thing that made Kurt feel  _ not _ normal. 

Maybe that was the difference between them. And maybe that difference was big enough to be a detriment. 

“I’m selfish, Blaine. I don’t want to share you.” Kurt opened his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And… I guess it just hit me that you’re not really  _ mine _ . You never will be.”

Blaine shook his head. “Kurt, I wish you didn’t think that.”

That made Kurt’s stomach turn. The hurt in Blaine’s voice, the pain in his eyes as he said it––it made Kurt feel guilty. It wasn’t Blaine’s fault that the world knew his name. He had worked hard to get where he was, and then there was Kurt, his new boyfriend, telling him he couldn’t handle it. Yes, Kurt was selfish. He was also human. And the thought of spending his life as an accessory to Blaine made him sick to his stomach.

“But it’s true. For me, at least. I’m sorry, Blaine. Maybe we were stupid to think this could work.”

Panic flashed in Blaine’s eyes. “Kurt, don’t.”

“Why not, Blaine? Why don’t we just admit that I’m not cut out for all of that?”

“Because it’s not  _ about _ all of that.” Blaine moved to kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands in his. “It’s about  _ this _ . About us. Every relationship has struggles.”

“Yeah, but not every relationship has the world watching their struggles.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t care enough to try. He cared about Blaine, more than he could say. That was why it was so scary. If this was how he felt after four months, what about six months? A year? The more time that passed, the harder it would be to give Blaine up when things fell apart.

And he was sure they would fall apart. Because that’s what happened to Kurt Hummel.

Blaine’s hand went to his cheek. Despite himself, Kurt leaned into the touch. “That’s not what this is really about, is it,” he said. “You were fine with the publicity until the tour came up.”

The dreaded T-word. This was what they had been avoiding for three weeks. The words were eating at his insides, begging to come out. But he knew how they would make him sound: jealous, insecure, clingy. 

“Eight months isn’t really eight months, you know,” Blaine went on. “I told you I’ll be home for Christmas, and I’ll be here for the New York show. It’s not like I’m disappearing without a trace.”

“It’s not that.” Kurt sighed, wanting nothing more than to sink backwards into the tree and become a part of it so that they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. “I mean, yes, I know you’ll get to come back. I just… am afraid you won’t want to come back to  _ me _ .”

Stunned silence met his words. Blaine’s hands fell away, folding them in his lap. His whole body seemed to shrink. His wide eyes blinked a few times. “It… didn’t occur to me that you would think that,” he said.

“Is it really that crazy?” Kurt asked. He hugged his legs to his chest like armour, resting his chin on his knee. 

“ _ Yes _ .” Blaine leaned in so that their noses were almost touching. “Kurt, there’s no one else I’d rather come home to.”

A chill went through Kurt, and it wasn’t from the spring breeze. He suddenly thought of his dad’s advice.  _ Don’t let him slip away because you’re too afraid to hold on to what you want. _

“You really mean that?”

“More than anything.” Blaine kissed him delicately, a warm hand on his knee. Kurt felt Blaine’s long eyelashes tickle his skin as he pressed closer. Hope flared in his chest.  _ Hold on to what you want _ .

He pulled back ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “So... you’re not going to run away with some guy from Miami, or Seattle?”

Blaine brushed his fingertips along the slight stubble on Kurt’s jaw, taking in Kurt’s face as if trying to memorize every inch. “None of them would hold a candle to you.”

Kurt pursed his lips. “What about Scotland? Or London? Even you aren’t immune to accents.”

A slow smile spread on Blaine’s face. “Kurt, I could travel the whole world and it wouldn’t matter.  _ You _ are my world.”

Kurt shoved Blaine’s shoulder lightly, rolling his eyes, unable to help himself from smiling, too. “That is so cheesy, Blaine Anderson.”

“You love it, Kurt Hummel.”

_ (I love  _ **_you_ ** _.) _

When Blaine kissed him, Kurt kissed back with more passion than he had in three weeks. He packed all of the emotions he’d been hiding away into that kiss, forgetting that they were in public. 

The thought that he loved Blaine wasn’t a surprise. Some part of him had known it for a while, maybe even since their first date on Christmas Day. But it had taken until now for him to actually articulate it.

Had they not been leaning against a tree in the middle of Battery Park, Kurt would have wanted to pull Blaine into his lap and kiss him senseless. Hell, he was considering doing it anyway when someone suddenly cleared their throat and both men broke apart, looking up to see Sam standing in the shade of the tree.

“Sam, now’s not a good time to––” Blaine started.

“We gotta go,” Sam said. “There’s a small mob forming nearby because that guy posted your photo on Twitter with the location. People are looking around here hoping to find you. Lots of teenage girls, and you know how loud they can scream.”

Blaine groaned and got to his feet, pulling Kurt up with him. He brushed off the debris from the tree trunk off Kurt’s back, which made Kurt swell with a new flood of emotion that Blaine instinctively knew he would’ve asked for help with that. He took Kurt’s hand. “Alright, Blond Chameleon, initiate phase two of the date,” he said.

Sam saluted. “Roger that, Nightbird.”

 

* * *

_ Phase two _ was really just hailing a taxi and getting a ride to Kurt’s apartment. Sam left them at the door, giving Blaine another salute through the taxi window as he drove off. Blaine returned the gesture, and then led Kurt into the building.

“You two are ridiculous,” Kurt said, watching with a smile as Blaine punched in his door code. It was better than having to make a copy of a key. Knowing the code meant they got to skip that whole milestone and just exist in each other’s worlds without barriers. “I can’t believe I ever thought you two were dating.”

Blaine laughed loudly. “Yeah, that was a major assumption on your part. But to be fair, I  _ did _ have a crush on him once upon a time.”

“Oh?” 

“He’s ideal crush material. The dorky impressions? The abs?”

“That butt,” Kurt agreed, nodding solemnly as they both walked into the apartment. Blaine took off his hat as they passed through the kitchen, hanging it on the back of a chair, and then continued walking. “Blaine, are you leading me to the bedroom?”

“So what if I am?” He turned to walk backwards so that he could look at Kurt as he said, “You’ve been holding out on me for weeks. I’m ready to catch up.”

And boy, do they catch up.

When they hit the mattress, Blaine on his back and Kurt pressing his lips to every inch of his skin that he could find, he was surprised to hear Blaine’s breathy moan of, “God, I want you to fuck me.”

Kurt froze, eyes wide as he pulled back to meet Blaine’s lust-filled gaze. Blaine’s hands stilled when they rested on his back, breathing hard as uncertainty crept into his features. Something told Kurt he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

Kurt swallowed thickly. “R-Really?”

“It’s okay, Kurt, just, forget I said anything.” Blaine moved to kiss him, but Kurt pressed a hand to his chest to pin him on his back.

“Maybe I want to,” he said, head spinning with the thought of finally taking that step, the one they’d been skirting around. They’d wanted to take things slow, but Kurt couldn’t deny that he had thought about it in great detail every night that he and Blaine spent apart. 

“We don’t have to just because––”

“Blaine.” Kurt shifted, straddling him and beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt. He hated how his hands were shaking. “I  _ want _ to.”

Blaine stared at him, shivering as the air hit his exposed chest, fingers curling under Kurt’s shirt to graze the skin above his waistband. “Okay,” he whispered, and then again, “Okay.”

Kurt felt like a teenager as they undressed one another, taking their time, nerves building even as he was flooded with a rush of emotion for Blaine. In such a short amount of time, this man had turned his life around, made him feel every cliche in the book. The world might have been watching them, but in that moment, they weren’t popstar Blaine Anderson and fashion designer Kurt Hummel. They were Kurt and Blaine: boyfriends, lovers, and maybe, if thinking it wasn’t jinxing it, Kurt could imagine they were soulmates, too.

Lying in bed, afternoon light still pouring into the bedroom, Kurt turned over and rested his chin on Blaine’s bare chest. His eyes were half-lidded, the rise and fall of his chest showing that he was fully relaxed, moments from a peaceful sleep. His fingers idly stroked Kurt’s shoulder, every so often brushing through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Blaine?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think we’re boring?” he asked.

Blaine’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head. “Um, Kurt? That’s not exactly what a guy wants to hear after sex.” 

Blaine reached over to flick his nose lightly. Kurt swatted him away. “I mean, like, because we didn’t...” He bit his lip, reconsidering his words. “Um, never mind.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Blaine carded his fingers through Kurt’s mussed hair. “You mean because until now we hadn’t...  _ penetrated _ ?” He whispered the word like a dirty secret.

Kurt groaned, burying his face in Blaine’s chest, feeling it shudder with laughter under his cheek. He stayed there, feeling Blaine’s fingers in his hair. “First of all, don’t ever say that word again. And secondly, yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“There’s nothing boring about waiting for the right time. I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“Me, too.” Kurt shifted so that he could look at Blaine as he said, “I did want you, Blaine, all this time. I think I was just afraid that once there was nothing left to give, I’d lose you.” Blaine’s eyes softened, filled with a profound sadness that made Kurt’s heart wrench. He looked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t close up.” Blaine’s hand traced circles on his back. “How do you feel now?”

“Good. But also sad.” Kurt played with the fine hairs on Blaine’s chest. “Knowing you’re going to leave when I’ve only just found you.”

“C’mere.” 

Kurt wiggled up towards the pillows, leveling his head with Blaine’s so that they could look one another in the eyes. When Blaine pressed their lips together gently, Kurt’s eyelids slipped closed, committing the feeling to memory. They might have been dirty and sweaty and smelled of sex, but this was how Kurt always wanted to be with Blaine. Just the two of them, forever.

“We’re okay,” Blaine murmured against his lips. It wasn’t just an observation; it felt like a promise. “We’re going to be okay. I wish I knew what to do to show you…” His words trailed off, the room going silent save for their breathing. If Kurt listened closely, he imagined he could hear Blaine’s brain ticking. 

After a moment, Blaine pulled away, moving to sit up. Kurt resisted the urge to pull him back as he watched him stand, pull on his underwear, and make his way over to Kurt’s dresser against the wall opposite the bed. He had a closet, as well, but the overflow went to the dresser, though he rarely used it. He frowned as he watched Blaine open one of the top drawers and started looting through it.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asked, propping himself up on his elbow. A pile began to form on top of the dresser until the contents of the drawer were empty. 

Blaine crossed the room, picked up the small duffel bag he usually kept there for whenever he stayed over at Kurt’s, and brought it over to the dresser. 

“I am giving myself a drawer in your apartment,” Blaine said, beginning to transfer the items into the dresser. He pointedly held up his travel tin of hair gel and placed it inside. A very important possession of his. “That way, you’ll always know that no matter where I am, or what I’m doing, at the end of the day I will always have a place in your home.”

Kurt was sitting up straight now, feeling that familiar pressure behind his eyes. He berated himself silently––he was  _ not _ going to cry over a stupid tin of hair gel in a stupid drawer. Even if it was the sweetest gesture he had ever seen. “As long as I get a drawer at your place, too,” he said, sniffing.

Blaine beamed and launched himself at the bed, tackling Kurt and pinning him to the mattress. “Deal,” he said, and kissed him hard. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, heart pumping wildly as he lost himself to Blaine. And losing himself was so, so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re coming to the end of the fic - just 5 more chapters left. I’m struggling a bit with the last few chapters, so I apologize in advance if updates start to come a lot slower. Thanks for your patience and kind words!
> 
> Title courtesy of “The Thrill Of It All” by Sam Smith.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) I’m currently planning out the sequel so send over your ideas ;)


	21. Takes One To Know One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really know how to phrase a warning for this chapter, so I guess I’ll just say that there is a plot point that involves sexual actions that were filmed without one of the participant’s knowledge/consent. The sex itself was consensual, just not the video. I hope that makes sense, and I know it’s sort of a spoiler, but I didn’t want to just jump in without any kind of warning.
> 
> Please message me on Tumblr if you have any concerns.
> 
> This picks up right after the last chapter.

****

 

**April** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Blaine was about to suggest that he and Kurt go for round two when both of their phones erupted, pinging and buzzing erratically. They froze, and Blaine knew they were both wondering whether or not they should ignore it, when they heard heels clicking in the apartment and a voice yelled, “You two better be having the hottest sex of your life for ignoring your messages!” 

Kurt groaned and muttered, “Santana,” and gently pushed Blaine off of him.

“Your publicist?” Blaine asked. Kurt grabbed the first articles of clothing he found in his closet and tossed them over. They both hurried to get dressed, and when Blaine checked his phone, there were six missed calls from Wes and David, and several text messages and tweets. A quick scan told him all he needed to know. 

A woman appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame, eyeing them both with amusement. “Knew it. He must be pretty good, Porcelain. I could hear you moaning from all the way down the hall.”

“Shut it, Santana,” Kurt snapped, tugging a shirt over his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Sebastian posted the photos from the shoot,” Blaine answered. He felt exposed in front of this woman he didn’t know, dressed only in one of Kurt’s tees and sweatpants, and clearly still half-hard. He tried to ignore Santana’s smirk and focused instead on Kurt’s death glare.

“Did we know he was going to post them today?” Kurt asked.

“No. But I can see why he did it. He’s clearly riding on the coattails of the tour announcement, since everyone’s still talking about it.”

“Boy Wonder here isn’t as dumb as he looks,” Santana said. “Wes said the same thing when I talked to him.”

“So why are you here?” Kurt asked her, trying to look intimidating but failing due to how debauched he looked. In Blaine’s opinion.

“Because Wes made a very good point that people are going to make the connection between these photoshoot pictures and the photo of him and Sebastian,” Santana said. Blaine’s heart sunk to his stomach. He’d completely forgotten that that was a possibility. He and Wes had talked about trying to get Sebastian not to release the photos of him in the jean jacket, which was what he was wearing in the viral photo, but they hadn’t done it yet, thinking they had more time, plus they’d been distracted by the tour preparations. 

“So you’re saying that people are going to realize the man in the photo is Sebastian,” Kurt said. “Why is that a problem? Won’t that just make Sebastian look unprofessional?”

“No, it’s going to make  _ Blaine _ look unprofessional,” Santana corrected. 

“Santana’s right,” Blaine said. “The focus is already on me because nobody knew who Sebastian was at first. You know everyone was calling me a cheater. The only difference now is they know who I was ‘cheating’ with. Not only does it make me a cheater, it makes me a cheater who takes advantage of guys who work for me.”

Kurt frowned. “I thought the photographer paid the model.”

“I’m not a model, Kurt. We paid Sebastian, not the other way around.” Blaine made a noise of frustration. Sebastian was too smart for his own good. This would make Blaine look bad, while at the same time getting Sebastian’s name out there. Nobody would think twice about him when Blaine was the one who looked like the  _ predatory gay _ . 

“Don’t worry your tiny butt, Boy Wonder,” Santana said. “Auntie Snix is going to pay Sebastian a visit.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Santana,” Kurt said.

“He is no match for my sexual and interrogational prowess,” Santana said, waving a hand dismissively. “I can’t make him take down the photos. There’s no point, since they’re already spreading too fast. But I can scare him enough to make him leave you two alone. I’m sure he’s not done trying to ruin Blaine’s life.”

“Intimidation tactics aren’t in the job description.”

“I’ll do it free of charge.” Santana’s lips were turned up in a devious smile. “That guy’s a Capital-B Bitch. I know how to deal with people like him.”

“How exactly is that?” Blaine asked.

“I’m a bitch, too. It’s takes one to know one.” She twiddled her fingers in goodbye. “Later, Thelma and Louise.”

 

* * *

Santana was not impressed by Sebastian Smythe. 

Any bitch who had to stoop this low to get people’s attention hardly  _ deserved _ the title of Capital-B Bitch. Still, she had to admire his audacity. Tarnishing the name of a celebrity to further your business ventures was bold. But even Santana had standards. 

Sure, in high school and even college she had done some things to sabotage relationships for her own benefit. But she liked to think she had grown since then. That was largely owed to Brittany, who had shown her just exactly how profound a relationship could be. After that steep learning curve, she began thinking twice about messing around with other people’s romantic feelings. 

She had known Kurt a long time now, and even she couldn’t deny that Blaine made him happy. Walking into Kurt’s apartment and seeing them post-sex was her first time seeing the two together beyond the photos online, but it had only taken a few moments to grasp that they were both stupidly in love. It was simultaneously gross and cute, and she hated how it made her miss having Brittany by her side.

Maybe New York was her chance to set things straight. She could save Tweedle Hair Gel and Tweedle Lady Lips from Sebastian, get Brittany back, as well as make a name for herself as a publicist. Her job in Ohio had been fine, but she didn’t want to teach children how to do back handsprings for the rest of her life. She wanted the name Santana Lopez to mean something.

Fueled by those thoughts, and a microphone taped to her underboob, she marched into Sebastian’s studio with new purpose. 

There was a secretary. A real, honest-to-god, glasses-wearing, heel-clicking, high-ponytailed secretary. Santana sauntered up to the desk, hips swaying. The woman was good looking, that was for certain. From what she knew about Sebastian, she had a fairly good chance of this woman being dick-repellent, so she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes as she leaned over the desk. The cut of her neckline dipped, exposing a generous amount of cleavage, and the secretary looked up in alarm.

“Hi, there,” Santana purred. She propped her elbow up on the desk and rested her chin in her hand. 

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the woman, her eyes wide behind her cat-eye lenses. 

“Oh, dear. Did Sebastian not tell you I was coming?” Santana drummed her nails on the desk. “Well, it’s no matter. I’ll just head in, he won’t be surprised to see me.”

“I can’t just let you walk in.”

Santana’s gaze flickered to the name tag resting on the desk.  _ Sarah _ . She had met more than a few lesbian Sarah’s, so she was feeling confident. “That’s a shame. Sebastian’s told me how much he likes you, Sarah. I’d hate to see him unhappy that you kept him waiting for me.”

Her doe eyes widened impossibly larger. “He’s mentioned me?” she squeaked.

“Says you’re one of the best secretaries out there. Cute, reliable––you’ve got the whole package, honey.” She batted her eyelashes for good measure. 

Sarah looked thoughtful, if a little unsure, but after a moment, she cleared her throat. “Alright, you can go in. He’s in a meeting now, though, so I wouldn’t recommend interrupting. He can be a little––” She caught herself and clamped her painted lips shut. 

“A little what?” Santana asked innocently.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Sarah busied herself with moving papers around on the desk with no apparent purpose. 

“Sarah.” Santana reached over the desk and put her hand on the young woman’s, stilling her fidgeting. Sarah looked up to meet her eyes. “You can tell me if something’s wrong, sweetie.”

A door suddenly burst open and a young man rushed through, sobbing uncontrollably as he fled from the building. Santana blinked, jaw hanging open as she watched the grown man disappear, practically leaving a river in his wake. 

“ _ That’s _ what’s wrong,” Sarah whispered, glancing around as if afraid Sebastian might be hiding anywhere. “He’s the second one today.”

Santana stood up straight. Her Mexican third eye was tingling. She patted Sarah’s hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Sarah. I’ve got this under control.”

She left the very confused secretary in the lobby and made her way through the door that the man had come through. She followed a long corridor, searching for signs of Sebastian’s office. It was a complicated building, but she kept her chin up so that she looked like she belonged there. She certainly was attractive enough to be seen in the building. Every person she came across was just like Sarah; young, pretty, and potentially gay. Yup, Santana was an excellent fit.

Finally, she came to an office marked with Sebastian’s name. She pressed her ear to the door. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” said a voice. Santana couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like it could be Sebastian. She’d never heard him speak, but the smarmy voice fit the face. 

“I can show you.” A voice she didn’t recognize. Male, probably also in the mid to late twenties range, though it was hard to tell. She felt slightly giddy, acting like a detective. 

There was a shuffle, and then Santana heard the tinny sound of heavy breathing and moans. It sounded like it was coming through a phone speaker. And––wow, whoever it was, was getting hot and heavy.

The audio stopped abruptly. “Well, you’ve made your point,” said Sebastian. “That’s definitely him.”

“I told you,” said the stranger. “It might have been a year ago, but he’s still recognizable.”

“And he doesn’t know this exists?”

“I’m very discreet.”

“May I ask why you even have this video in the first place?”

“You expected me to have a one night stand with Blaine Anderson and not record it?”

Santana sucked in a breath, then clamped her lips together. Luckily, whoever was inside didn’t seem to hear, because Sebastian answered with, “An excellent point. I’m sure I’d do the same.”

The stranger laughed shortly. “So do we have a deal?”

“Let’s negotiate price, Eli.”

_ Eli _ . Santana had a name now. That was enough to spur her into action, twisting the doorknob and throwing it open in a single motion. She took joy in the way Sebastian startled slightly at her entrance, but he recovered quickly. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare, Twinky Bitchlet,” Santana said. She took in the sight of the mysterious Eli, who looked like a carbon copy of every basic white gay man she had ever met. Leaning on his chair, she used her dramatic entrance as a distraction for slipping his wallet out of his pocket. It was sticking out the back of his jeans, just begging to be plucked by her deft fingers. 

She committed his face to memory and then turned to Sebastian again. “My name is Santana Lopez. I represent Kurt Hummel. Remember him?”

“How could I forget?” Sebastian said. “His lady face is burned into my mind forever, unfortunately.”

“Well, I’m his publicist-slash-private-investigator, and I heard your little conversation,” Santana said. “You and Eli over here have something that I want. Specifically, a video.”

“Kinky,” Eli said.

“Shut it, Alfred Bitchcock. The adults are speaking.” She narrowed her eyes at Sebastian. “Look, you’ve had your fun with your little photos, and your scandal, and trying to ruin Blaine’s life. Congratulations, I’m actually very impressed with your total lack of moral compass.”

“Thank you.”

“However, let’s not forget who’s the big fish here, alright? You buy that video from Kinky McPornstar over here and you’re going to have to deal with legal action, Sebastian. No matter how famous you’ll get over those photos of Blaine, he’s still the A-lister between you two.”

“C-list at best,” Sebastian snorted.

“All I’m saying is, he can afford some pretty impressive lawyers,” Santana finished, crossing her arms over her chest. “So it’s not exactly time to test your luck.”

Sebastian stood up, circling around his desk to stand in front of her. “I don’t need luck. My father’s a state attorney. If you don’t think I have friends in high places, you’re dumber than your fake boobs make you look.”

“Those friends in high places won’t matter when you have an entire office of staff who hate you,” Santana shot back. “Don’t you think they’d all love to testify against the boss who’s made their life a living hell? I’m sure it would take about three seconds to find whichever one of your little minions took that picture of you and Blaine, and have them tell the world how you forced them to take pictures of people and post it without their consent. Which is illegal, in case you forgot.” She wasn’t actually sure if it was illegal, but her poker face remained level as she added, “And don’t even get me started on your business venture with  _ Eli _ .” 

She pulled his wallet from her pocket. He made a noise of surprise as she pulled out his driver’s license. “Elijah Clark. Well, Eli C, it’s a shame your life is so pathetic that you have to sell a non-consensual sex tape for money. I’d be more than happy to do a quick Facebook search to find your mother and tell her what you’re up to.” 

She handed the wallet back to him, smiling sweetly. Sebastian’s smile was gone now. “Santana, was it?”

“Miss Lopez to you.”

“Well, Miss Lopez. You’ve made your point. This has been a refreshing conversation, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Nuh-huh,” Santana said, wagging her finger in his face. “Not until I get confirmation that you won’t buy or post that video.” She prayed her underboob hadn’t accidentally pressed any buttons that might have turned the microphone off.

“You’ve got my word,” Eli said, earning a glare from Sebastian. “What? I said I was discreet. I thought that meant you would be, too. I mean, what kind of security do you have in this building, anyway, if she can just waltz into your office?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Fine. If he’s out, I’m out.”

“Repeat after me. I, Sebastian Smythe––”

“Yeah, yeah. I, Sebastian Smythe, promise not to buy Eli’s video and post it. Happy?” 

Santana smiled wickedly. “ _ Very _ . Thank you for your time, boys.”

As she strode from the office, Santana reached into her top and pulled out the recording device. She stopped the recording, and felt an immense sense of pride. Auntie Snix to the rescue again. 

Her smile faltered when she thought back to the conversation. Poor Blaine. She  _ knew _ she was a bitch, but it took a special kind of evil to do that to someone. Sure, she had made a sex tape or two in her day. But both parties had known it was happening. There was that one time Brittany had posted theirs without her consent, but that had been resolved eventually, and she couldn’t hate Brittany for it since she was just trying to help.

But not knowing you were being recorded? Who knew how long Eli had had that video, waiting for the right moment to release it. It was just lucky she had been there to stop it. And if he and Sebastian did go ahead and post it, at least she had proof of their conversation. 

As she passed through the lobby, Sarah, the secretary, looked up. She looked like she wanted to say something, so Santana walked over and leaned on the desk. “I might as well tell you now that Sebastian wasn’t actually expecting me,” she said. “So I’m sorry if I get you into trouble. But take my advice, Sarah––” She sighed, tucking the recording device back into her bra. “Quit this job as soon as you can. And if you ever feel like getting a better one, give me a call.” She pulled out one of her freshly printed business cards and handed it over. 

It read  _ Santana Lopez, Publicist _ in bold fire-red letters with her phone number and email underneath. Above her name was a symbol of an eye with a red iris and a heart-shaped pupil.

“Th-thanks, Miss Lopez,” Sarah stammered.

“Any time. Toodles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, one of the biggest hit-or-miss parts of this are Santana’s nicknames. I have to say I was pretty proud of “Alfred Bitchcock” but you’ll have to tell me how I did for the others. I really enjoyed writing Santana’s perspective!
> 
> Title courtesy of “BITCH (takes one to know one)” by Lennon Stella.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/)


	22. Tear In My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Santana's visit to Sebastian's office - and Blaine finding out how his past almost came back to bite him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I’m back!
> 
> I’m so sorry this part took so long! I was really struggling with the ending of this fic, and I felt like I couldn’t work on editing this part until I had finished the last few chapters. To get over my mental block I was working on some other stand alone fics and my novel. Now I only have the last chapter and the epilogue to finish, but I feel confident enough to post this.
> 
> Thanks for your patience! This chapter picks up immediately after the last one.

****

 

**April** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Blaine sat on Kurt’s couch, watching his boyfriend wear a hole through the living room floor. About an hour before, Santana had sent them a text saying that Sebastian was dealt with, but that they had another problem. After that, it had been radio silence, and Kurt had since been pacing while they waited for further news.

“Kurt, stop pacing.”

“It keeps me from panicking.”

“I kind of think you’re panicking anyway.”

Kurt shot him a glare. “You’re being way too calm about this.”

Blaine sighed. “Honey, can you  _ please _ sit down?” he said. 

At that, Kurt paused. “You called me honey.”

“Um… yes, I did. Is that okay?”

“You’ve never done that before,” Kurt said, with a strangely distant voice.

Blaine frowned. “Should I not? Do you not like pet names?” 

“N-No, you can. You can call me whatever you want, quite frankly.”

That made Blaine smile. At least he had stopped pacing. “Can you come here? Whatever it is, Santana is dealing with it, and there’s nothing we can do until we hear from her. So come sit with me.” 

Kurt huffed. “I hate it when you’re rational.” 

Thankfully, he listened, and collapsed into Blaine’s lap, his arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he buried his face in his shirt, his long legs stretched out over Blaine’s lap. Blaine kissed his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly. It was like comforting a small child, the way Kurt leaned into his body and held him tight like he never wanted to let go. Blaine would’ve been happy if he never did.

It was nearing evening now, and they still hadn’t eaten. Blaine didn’t think he could even if he was hungry. The day felt like it had lasted a year; it was only a few hours ago that they were in Battery Park. Having Kurt yell at him like that had made Blaine feel awful, and he knew he never wanted either of them to feel that way again. Whatever it took, he would make sure Kurt knew how much he cared about him. 

_ (just tell him you love him, idiot) _

Blaine couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time. He wanted to say it when they were both happy, when they hadn’t just gotten over a fight, when they didn’t have the threat of something like Sebastian hanging over them.

But he was running out of time. In a little more than a month he’d be gone.

Kurt kissed his neck softly. “Sorry for stressing you out.”

“It’s okay.” Blaine was more accustomed to waiting around for answers. Most of the time, he never knew what he was doing up until five minutes before he did it, if that. He’d been called out for last-minute meetings, interviews, recordings, and performances more times than he could count. Waiting for news from Santana was something he could do.

“How about we watch reruns of  _ Project Runway _ ?” Blaine said, reaching for the remote. Kurt immediately perked up, sliding off his lap but still staying close, still wrapped around him. 

“You know exactly what I want,” Kurt said, and pecked him on the cheek. 

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

He picked a random episode from Kurt’s recorded shows and let it play. Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder as they watched. Blaine wasn’t really absorbing the show. He could only pay attention to the feeling of Kurt against him. 

For the first time in a while, things felt normal between them. It had been agony for those few weeks as Kurt pulled farther and farther away from him. Now that Blaine understood why, he wanted to drop the tour right then and there and stay in New York. He knew, logically, that he couldn’t. It was because of their jobs that they had found each other, but right now it was the bane of their relationship, dragging them apart instead of pulling them together.

It would take some time for Kurt to see that they could survive being separated. Blaine was already planning to go through the schedule and find breaks, even for just a few days, where he could fly back to spend even one night together. He had Jeff put tickets on hold for the New York and Ohio shows, just in case Kurt had time to come. 

It would work out. But only if Kurt believed it would. 

The episode of  _ Project Runway _ came to a close, and Blaine was preparing to select another one, when they both heard the sound of the front door opening.

Kurt shot up like a rocket and viciously whacked Blaine’s shoulder. “Turn the TV off,” he ordered, and Blaine did as he was told, then rubbed his arm tenderly, muttering, “Domestic abuse.”

Santana entered the room slowly, one hand covering her eyes. “Is it safe?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re fully clothed,” Blaine answered, smiling as she lowered her hand in disappointment. 

“Pity. I took extra long because I hoped you two would get it on,” she said, and then collapsed into the armchair opposite them. “Well, I dealt with Sebastian. I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

“That’s great,” Blaine said. 

“But there’s something else, isn’t there?” Kurt said, wringing his hands together. Blaine covered them with his own hand.

Santana leaned forward gravely, a seriousness on her face that was new to Blaine. He hadn’t known her more than a few hours, but she didn’t seem like the serious type. He sat up straight, all ears, as her gaze turned on him. “When I got to Sebastian’s studio, he was in a meeting. I was eavesdropping, and––”

“Santana, you can’t just eavesdrop on people,” Blaine said, earning a sharp  _ shh! _ from Kurt. 

“Be glad I did, Blaine.” It was the lack of nickname that told Blaine this really was serious. “Does the name Elijah Clark mean anything to you?”

Blaine frowned. Nothing came to him. He shook his head.

“How about just Eli?”

Blaine squinted, trying to think back to any one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he had met over the years. He was sure he had met a few Eli’s, but none that stood out, except for––

_ Oh.  _

His heart got lodged somewhere between his teeth and his collarbone. A sense of dread settled over him. “You don’t mean…” He looked at Santana nervously, avoiding Kurt’s eyes at all cost. 

Blaine didn’t do one night stands. At least he didn’t  _ now _ . In the early days of his career, there had been plenty of men who were suddenly interested in him, and Blaine didn’t know what to do with the attention. A few were very outright with their intentions, and he would be lying if he said he never accepted the offer of one night of fun.

He had put that behind him once he realized it always left him feeling empty. He hadn’t been with anybody in that way for a long time, so to suddenly have memories crawling back of strange faces and strange bedrooms… His stomach lurched. 

He couldn’t remember what Eli looked like, but he knew the name, because it reminded him of a time in his life when he had never felt more alone.

“Eli had a video that Sebastian was very interested in,” Santana went on, bringing Blaine back to the present. 

“Video?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t freak out, Blaine, but he recorded it. The whole thing.”

Blaine paled, his hands going suddenly clammy. He pulled away from Kurt. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“He recorded  _ what _ ?” Kurt asked.

Blaine closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at either of them as he rubbed his temples, willing away his sudden bout of dizziness and nausea. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Will one of you tell me what’s going on?” Kurt’s voice had a tinge of panic to it, and Blaine suspected that he had already figured it out, but didn’t want to believe it.

“I slept with him,” Blaine said. His voice had never sounded so hollow. There was no point to hiding the truth. “A long time ago. Way before I met you.” His eyes stayed closed as he bent over, burying his face in his hands. “And now I bet Sebastian’s going to ruin me with it.”

“Actually, I fixed that little problem,” Santana said. Blaine opened his eyes, blinking at her, not believing his ears. “I went in there just expecting to get a confession from Sebastian saying he orchestrated that photo of you two. What I got was  _ much _ better.” 

She pulled a recorder out of her pocket and smiled as she pressed play.

_ “Fine. If he’s out, I’m out.”  _ __  
_ “Repeat after me. I, Sebastian Smythe––”  _ _  
_ __ “Yeah, yeah. I, Sebastian Smythe, promise not to buy Eli’s video and post it. Happy?” 

She clicked the device again, the utmost look of smugness on her face. “See? Problem solved.”

Blaine chanced a look at Kurt. The breath escaped him as he saw the pure anger on his face. Thankfully, it wasn’t directed at him. “That fucking  _ prick _ ,” Kurt hissed. “I can’t believe he would stoop that low.”

“I can,” said Blaine. “Thank you, Santana. You just single handedly saved my career.”

Santana shrugged. “All in a day’s work, Bubble Butt.” She stood up and whipped out her phone. “Now I’m going to call Wes and fill him in, and then we––” She twirled her finger in a circle, “––are celebrating.”

“Oh, Santana, I don’t think we’re really in the mood to––”

“Hush. Let Auntie Tanny take care of it.” She lifted the phone to her ear and strut away, disappearing into the kitchen, muttering something congratulatory to herself in Spanish.

When Blaine turned to Kurt, anxiety crept in. “Are you mad at me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Kurt shook his head. “No, honey, of course not.” His heart swelled at the pet name. It  _ did _ sound nice to hear Kurt call him something special, just for him. “I’m just pissed that Sebastian would do that to you. And this Eli guy, whoever he is.”

Blaine winced. “He was a mistake. One night of my life that I’ll never get back.” And it was all on video, floating out there in the great big cloud. “Kurt, you should know I stopped doing that a long time ago. It was a… strange time in my life, and I was overwhelmed, and I think part of me thought I was on top of the world and nothing could touch me.”

“It’s okay, Blaine. You did nothing wrong.” Something loosened in Blaine’s chest when Kurt touched his cheek, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone lightly. “Let’s stop talking about it before I start thinking about anybody else having you but me.”

Kurt pulled him into a hug. Blaine leaned into him, closing his eyes. He wasn’t that person anymore. He’d tried so hard not to be. To think all of that could have been stripped away because of Sebastian––

 

* * *

––made Kurt want to  _ scream _ .

It took all of his effort to contain himself as he hugged Blaine tightly to his chest, his nails dragging through his curls. The last thing he wanted right now was a party. He could hear Santana’s voice in the next room, chattering excitedly to who he assumed was Wes. He had never wanted alone time with Blaine more than he did in that moment, to make sure he was alright.

Yes, Kurt had his own feelings about the situation. He seethed with jealousy at the thought of Blaine being with anyone else, even though it was irrational. Anger flared when he thought of Sebastian, planning to expose Blaine like that and ruin him… and for what? Internet clout? Revenge for not being able to have him the way he wanted? Kurt couldn’t–– _ wouldn’t _ ––understand Sebastian. He wasn’t going to waste another moment thinking about him.

Santana’s heels signalled her return, and Blaine slowly slipped out of Kurt’s grasp, leaning back against the couch with a look of utter defeat on his face. 

“Santana, I don’t think a party is a very good idea,” Kurt said.

“Oh, come on, Lady Lips. I would’ve thought after little Hobbit here taking your v-card you’d be a little more fun.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what came over him. The combination of the events of the day, his emotions running high, Santana’s smug smirk, and Blaine’s emotional distress sent a hot flash of fury through him. He bolted up from the couch, stepping towards Santana with fire in his eyes.

“First of all, Blaine did  _ not _ take my ‘v-card’, as you so eloquently put it, because I’m a grown man who’s probably gotten more ass since high school than you have since you’re so hung up on Brittany. Second of all, I’ve told you a million times that calling me  _ Lady Lips _ is offensive. Somehow, despite your sapphic confidence, you still manage to be homophobic. It’s one of your gifts, truly. And lastly, I think Blaine has gone through enough for one day without having to entertain whatever bottom feeders you’ve scraped up for your lame party. So if you’ll excuse us, Santana, please walk your cheap ass out of my apartment before I make you.”

Santana blinked slowly at him, her expression a look of trained boredom, though he knew that he’d caught her off guard. If Blaine’s gaping jaw was any indication, he’d shocked them both. He honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Whatever. I have better things to do anyway,” Santana said, glancing between them. “Get your jaw off the floor before you catch flies. Or herpes from Kurt’s apparent sexual adventures.”

She turned on her heel and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Kurt exhaled slowly, knowing he’d have a hell of a time dealing with her later. Or maybe he should just start looking for a new publicist.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Blaine,” he said, collapsing on the sofa, feeling more drained that before.

“Are you kidding? That was incredible.” Blaine had a smile of wonder on his face as he leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to Kurt’s cheek, murmuring, “My hero.”

Kurt laughed lightly, letting Blaine’s snake his arm around his waist and cuddle close, tucking his legs under him and slotting his chin in the crook of Kurt’s neck. Kurt heart was still beating relatively fast, but it slowed down as the comfort of Blaine washed over him.

“Blaine?”

“Mm?”

“Would you sing me something?”

He felt Blaine adjust himself against Kurt, making room for his jaw to move freely as he opened his mouth and began to sing softly.

_ Can’t count the years on one hand that we’ve been together _ __  
_ I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better _ __  
_ It’s not a walk in the park to love each other _ __  
_ But when our fingers interlock can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it _ _  
_ __ After all this time, I’m still into you

The soft, velvet tones of Blaine voice lulled Kurt into a dreamy state of near-sleep. Blaine’s hand rubbed his thigh gently, not in a sexual way, just a reminder of comfort. Kurt caught his hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing Blaine’s knuckles. Maybe it didn’t matter if Blaine was going away. Maybe this touch of the fingertips was all it took to confirm that they were going to be alright.

_ I’m into you _ _  
_ _ Baby, not a day goes by that I’m not into you _

 

* * *

As the days went by, there was no word from Sebastian. Kurt made amends with Santana (“I’m not gonna lie, Hummel, I was impressed by the colossal size of your balls, considering how tight your pants are. Auntie Tanny forgives you.”), and checked social media every day for any sign of an attack against Blaine from this Eli character. By mid-May, he began to breathe easier.

But there was the impending date of Blaine’s departure, only days after Kurt’s birthday at the end of the month. Santana insisted on throwing a massive goodbye party for Blaine to launch the tour, as well as celebrate Kurt’s birthday, because in her mind, that meant double the intensity of the party. Kurt allowed her to do what she wanted, and Blaine offered his apartment as a venue, since it was larger than Kurt’s and Kurt nearly had a heart attack at the thought of so many people around his spotless furniture.

The guest list grew every day. Mercedes was flying in from LA. Everyone from Kurt’s office would be there, and Blaine’s entourage as well, as much as Wes tried to worm out of the occasion. Sam, Marley, and Brittany would be in attendance, as well. Rachel whined endlessly about how she couldn’t make it because of her show, but Kurt just rolled his eyes and told her they had every other opportunity to hang out.

It was all a little overwhelming for Kurt. He had to balance Santana’s constant calls with updates and questions about the party with his busy work schedule. Now that summer was fast approaching, he was putting the finishing touches on his garments for  _ Marie Claire _ , which would give him a huge boost in the fashion world. 

And then there was Blaine.

Blaine somehow found every opportunity to visit Kurt. One day he showed up with coffee three times to Kurt’s office, and Kurt had to assure him that he didn’t need an excuse to swing by, and his coffee addiction was going to get out of hand if Blaine continued to enable him. He knew Blaine was overcompensating for the next eight months, and it was sweet, but it was only making Kurt more nervous. With Blaine constantly around, his absence in June would be a gaping hole that he wouldn’t know how to fill. 

But Blaine was happy, and so Kurt couldn’t find the heart to tell him to slow down. He spent nearly every night at Kurt’s, and even though they were both exhausted, they enjoyed their new level of intimacy and explored one another as thoroughly as they could, knowing their opportunities would be limited soon. It made Kurt wonder why they had ever decided to take things slow. 

And all the while, those three words were on the tip of his tongue. Could he tell Blaine he loved him when it had only been about five months, only to have him leave for another eight? He didn’t know if saying it would make their bond stronger, or if it would make the distance feel worse. 

So every night, when they went to bed and Blaine’s breath fell evenly, their legs wrapped together under the sheets, Kurt would always make sure Blaine was absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent asleep before he dared to whisper into the night––

“I love you, Blaine Anderson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title courtesy of “Tear In My Heart” by twenty one pilots.
> 
> The song Blaine sings is “Still Into You” by Paramore. I highly recommend the acoustic cover by Ashley Tisdale and Chris French, because it’s so soft and gets me every time.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there.


	23. Night So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the one that I was so caught up on that I couldn’t finish the fic. After not working on it for almost two weeks, it suddenly came exploding out of me. I can’t explain it. But I hope it was worth the wait.

****

 

**May** **  
** **NYC, New York**

Kurt was hiding in the bathroom.

It was the very same bathroom where he and Blaine brushed their teeth before bed and showered in the morning. It was the same bathroom that housed two toothbrushes; a green one for Blaine, and a purple one for Kurt that matched the one he had at home. It was the same bathroom with the luxury walk-in shower where Kurt had had shower sex for the first time, giggling over almost falling over, moaning with his ass pressed against the glass wall, and shampooing Blaine’s hair for him when they were finished. 

He ran the tap to make the room a little less of a soundless void as he stared into the mirror, hands braced against the sink basin. “It’s just a party,” he muttered to himself, wincing when he heard a glass smash somewhere in the apartment, followed by a chorus of cheers. 

It wasn’t just a party. It was partially for his birthday, and he knew that if he spent much longer barricaded in the washroom then someone would come looking for him. That someone would likely be Blaine, and he was the last person Kurt wanted to see.

Counter to the  _ other _ point of the party, Kurt had been avoiding Blaine all night. It turned out to be much easier than he anticipated, because while it was combined with Kurt’s birthday celebration, most of the guests were there to celebrate the launch of Blaine’s tour. His boyfriend had been occupied all night. He would be leaving the following morning.

_ Knock knock _ . 

“Kurt?”

He exhaled when he recognized Mercedes’ voice. He shut off the tap, unlocked the bathroom door and eased it open a crack. Mercedes’ narrowed eye stared back at him. “You better have a good reason for hiding in here on your birthday,” she said.

“You know I hate parties.”

“For the love of all that is good, Kurt, open the door.”

Sighing, he let the door swing open all of the way. Mercedes shuffled in and shut the door behind her, then leaned against it with her arms crossed over her chest. “Mr. Cutie out there has been looking for you,” she said. “He mentioned something about having to give you your present.”

Kurt groaned. “ _ Another _ ?” he said, exasperated. 

Mercedes raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay, spill. You’re acting crazy.”

The words came out in a rush. He hadn’t known how much he needed to get off his chest until that moment, having a friend like Mercedes in front of him. 

“All week he’s been giving me gifts! And it started off really sweet, like flowers and a new shirt.” He pointed to his chest, where he was sporting a [white button-up with blue bramble-like silhouettes snaking up from the bottom](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1Xk0EOVXXXXa_XFXXq6xXFXXXX/YLWONG-Fashion-Men-Shirt-Long-Sleeve-Abstract-3D-Branch-Print-Shirt-Men-Slim-Fit-Cotton-Luxury.jpg_640x640.jpg). “But then it became a new sewing machine, and a bird brooch that I’m pretty sure cost hundreds of dollars, and––” He gestured wildly, grasping at words. “It’s just too much, Mercedes!  _ He’s _ too much. He must think he has to compensate or something because he’s leaving, and I know he’s trying so hard but…” He groaned in frustration. “I don’t want gifts. I just want  _ him _ .”

Mercedes blinked at him. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m finished.”

“Okay. Kurt, I love you. You know I do. But boy, you need to  _ talk to him _ .” She poked his chest for emphasis. 

“What am I supposed to say? ‘Thanks but no thanks for the gifts, and also don’t leave me behind’?”

“Boy, if you don’t––” Mercedes stopped herself, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. After a moment, she looked at him again sternly. “Come with me.”

Grabbing him by the arm, she dragged Kurt out of the bathroom. He tried to dig his heels into the carpet of Blaine’s bedroom, but all he succeeded in doing was making two distinct track marks leading from the bathroom to the door. Mercedes shoved him out first, making him dive into the thick crowd of party guests. He collided with someone’s back, and looked up to see Sam beaming down at him.

“Kurt!” he exclaimed. “And Mercedes! There you are. Are you looking for Blaine? He’s in the kitchen, I think.”

Before Kurt could protest, Sam had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and was guiding him towards the kitchen. His face was burning with embarrassment as he passed guests who shouted happy birthday at him as they went. He reached out for Mercedes, only to find she was no longer there. Some friend she was. 

The kitchen was busy, but Blaine wasn’t among the people there serving themselves drinks. Marley smiled and waved when she saw them. “Are you guys looking for Blaine?” she asked.

“Yup!” Sam answered, jostling Kurt and not letting go of his grip. 

“You just missed him,” Marley said, giving a look of sympathy. “He said something about warming up his voice in the––” She stopped, eyes flickering to Kurt. “I mean, going to the bathroom. Must be time to break the seal!” She lifted her cup and laughed uneasily, muttered a quick goodbye and shuffled past to rejoin the party.

Kurt wrenched himself out of Sam’s grasp. “What did she mean, warming up his voice?” he demanded. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said quickly.

Kurt let out a noise of frustration and stormed away in the direction of the bathroom that sat just off of the dining room. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him off his trajectory, making him stumble. He opened his mouth to yell at the person but stopped when he saw it was Santana.

“Kurt!” she greeted, digging her nails into his arm. The use of his first name was enough to throw him off. Then he saw the woman standing next to Santana; he didn’t recognize her. “Sarah, this is Kurt Hummel,” Santana said, smiling tightly and giving Kurt a pointed look.

The girl, Sarah, looked at him with excitement. “It’s so nice to meet you, Santana has told me so much and I’m a big fan of your designs! That suit you did for Blaine Anderson at the Grammys was incredible.”

“Um, thanks.” Kurt was so bewildered at the fact that Santana had gone so long without insulting him that he couldn’t even process the compliment. And she’d brought… a fan? To his party? He was beyond confused. “I would really love to chat but I’m actually looking for Blaine, so––”

“He’s not even here, anyway,” Santana said. “Something about David’s taxi, and Blaine had to go pick him up a few blocks away. He’ll be back. For now, you can talk to us.”

Kurt remained chained to Santana for the next twenty minutes. Each time he tried to edge away, she would grip his wrist, vice-like, until he stopped squirming. He finally resigned himself to the conversation, though he barely got a word in edgewise. Santana spent more time flirting with Sarah than paying attention to him, and eventually he realized that she just needed a wingman.

“How did you two meet?” he asked, forcing himself to stop glancing around the apartment looking for Blaine. 

Sarah blushed. “Well, actually, I was working for Sebastian Smythe, and––”

“ _ What _ ?” Kurt scowled at Santana. “You’re bringing the enemy into Blaine’s apartment?”

“Cool it, Hummel,” said Santana. “She  _ used _ to work for Sebastian. It’s because of Sarah that I was able to get in and grab that recording.”

Kurt relaxed a little. “Oh. That’s… not so bad then.”

“She’s on our side,” Santana assured him. “I was going to talk to you about this later, but we might as well do it now. Sarah and I have been talking about having her be my assistant. With all your press, I could use some extra hands.”

“As long as it remains professional,” he said pointedly, not missing the way both women had been eyeing each other all night. 

_ (where the hell is Brittany, anyway?) _

“Of course,” Sarah said, wide-eyed. Santana hadn’t corrupted her yet, apparently.

Behind Sarah’s shoulder, Kurt caught a gelled head of hair weaving between the crowd. Kurt sucked in a breath and gave an overly bright smile. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, but I really should be talking to other guests too, so––”

“We’ll have a meeting?” Santana asked.

“Yes, yeah, sometime this week. I’ll talk to you later!” 

Kurt shot towards the doorway, following Blaine’s trail into the living room. Glancing around, he couldn’t see him among the crowd. When had so many people arrived? There was barely room to breathe.

The sound of silver knocking glass rose over the din of the crowd, and Kurt’s stomach twisted as he saw Brittany mount the coffee table. She raised her champagne flute, hitting it with a spoon. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, and aliens masquerading as humans, may I have your attention please?” 

Voices died down. Brittany smiled, lowering her champagne glass, and addressed the crowd. “Okay, so. We’re all here to celebrate our very good friends and the couple of the year, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson.” 

There was a smattering of hoots and hollers. Kurt wished he could disappear.

“By special request from our guest of honour, Blaine would like to kick off his tour by performing a brand new song, never before heard by human ears. Lord Tubbington made a secret recording when you were practicing earlier, though, so you might have to pay him off if you don’t want him to leak it.” Brittany looked off to the side, somewhere Kurt couldn’t see, but he knew Blaine must have been standing there. 

She returned her attention to the crowd. “Anyway. Where’s Kurt?”

Kurt took a step back, preparing to flee, but suddenly there were hands on his shoulders pushing him forward to a chorus of his name.

“Go, Kurt!”

“ _ Get it, Hummel! _ ”

Face the colour of crimson, Kurt found himself standing in front of the coffee table. A circle around them was cleared as Brittany dropped down and beamed at him. She leaned in and whispered, “I like Blaine, but you’ll always be my favourite unicorn.” And then she disappeared to the crowd.

Blaine appeared then. He was in a different outfit than Kurt had last seen him; he had a [unique navy stop with intricate silver patterns, and matching navy pants](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1090/7042/products/HTB1w4xxvfiSBuNkSnhJq6zDcpXaA.jpg?v=1532502047). He was also wearing––shockingly––a bolo tie that he pulled off surprisingly well. Kurt was struck by how incredibly handsome his boyfriend was.

He had a guitar strung over his shoulder, and was gazing down at Kurt with a wide smile.

“Kurt,” Blaine said, raising his voice to be heard throughout the apartment. “Less than a year ago, I had the worst writer’s block of my life. I couldn’t play, I couldn’t sing––nothing I wrote felt worthy of being shown to anyone. My world was… well, it wasn’t musical anymore. And then I met you, and suddenly the world was filled with music again. I didn’t know it then, but the months after that first coffee date would be the best of my life. Getting to know you, and being a part of your world gave me something I didn’t even know I’d been missing.”

Someone in the back let out an  _ aww _ , and Kurt’s breath hitched as he lifted a hand to wipe his eyes. He was  _ not  _ going to cry.

“Kurt, happy birthday. This song is for you.”

He began strumming the introduction to the song, slow and melodic. Kurt realized that the guitar was hooked up to an amplifier, the chords echoing through the apartment. Sam appeared, lifting a microphone on a stand onto the coffee table in front of Blaine, throwing a thumbs up in Kurt’s direction before backing away. Kurt resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

_ I’ve got a record stuck playing in my head _ _  
_ _ It played the very first time that we had met _

Blaine’s sultry voice filled the space, and when their eyes met, Kurt’s breath was sucked clear out of his lungs. There was something so raw in his gaze, like he was opening up completely, no barriers between them anymore. Blaine was just––well,  _ Blaine _ . There was nothing else attached, it was just Blaine, the man that Kurt was in love with.

He made himself listen to the lyrics, the words that Blaine said were for  _ him _ . 

_ The beginning’s different from the end _ __  
_ Since we started off as friends  _ _  
_ __ I’d never have guessed we’d end up here

The threat of tears had passed now. Kurt had reigned that in, steeling himself for the wave of emotions that hit when he heard Blaine’s lyrics, lyrics about him, about them. He hoped someone was recording it, because he wanted to listen to it again and again every day until Blaine came back. The song began to come to a close, the final lyrics hitting Kurt squarely in the chest.

_ Love me fast, love me strong _ _  
_ _ I hope you still love me when I’m gone _

The guitar faded, and the room erupted into cheers and applause. Kurt’s smile could have lit up an arena as he clapped, laughing and shaking his head at the sheer cheesiness of the man he had the pleasure of calling his boyfriend.

Blaine cast aside the guitar and outstretched his hand towards Kurt. Kurt accepted it, stepping up onto the coffee table beside him as Blaine’s arm wound around his waist.

“What did you think?” Blaine asked, a quiet murmur only for Kurt’s ears.

Kurt cupped his jaw, his fingers brushing Blaine’s cheek. “I love you.”

Blaine’s lips parted in surprise, apparently taken aback by the admission. Then he smiled. “I love you, too. So much, Kurt.”

Kurt claimed his lips in a searing kiss, and the applause started again, this time with appreciative catcalls. Kurt didn’t care. Blaine was his, distance or not. He could take eight months, if it meant a lifetime with the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title courtesy of “Night So Long” by HAIM.
> 
> I wrote the lyrics for the song Blaine sings. It’s from a song I wrote a while ago when I was still a musician, but it’s never been released so I figured I might as well put it to use now ;) It would’ve felt wrong to use a real song and pretend it was Blaine’s, lol. I hope it’s satisfactory for the story, even though you can’t hear the music.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there.


	24. You And I Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the party is over, it's time to say goodbye... or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last official chapter––it’s a short one, though, so apologies for that. I just didn’t want to drag this story out any longer than it needed to be. The next part will be an epilogue.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone waiting patiently for this fic to wrap up. Your support means the world to me!

****

 

 **May** **  
** **NYC, New York**

It was well into the hours of the morning when the last guests left Blaine’s apartment, leaving chip crumbs, empty solo cups, and other party debris in their wake. It was truly the site of destruction. Though Santana had been eager to plan the party, she hadn’t been as keen to organize a clean up crew. A tornado might have ravaged through the building and it would’ve left the same effect.

Despite the mess, Blaine wasn’t currently in a state of concern. There could’ve been a hurricane in the room, and he wouldn’t have noticed. This was because he had Kurt pressed against the wall, less than a foot from his bedroom door, mouthing hotly across his neck while Kurt let out those breathy moans that drove him crazy.

“Blaine…” Kurt sighed. “We––we need to… clean…”

“I’ll hire someone to do it tomorrow,” Blaine said, driving his thigh between Kurt’s legs, both of them groaning from the friction. Blaine kissed a trail down his neck, pulling his shirt aside to reach his collarbone. He didn’t usually abuse his comfortable bank account, but if it meant he didn’t have to spend his last night in New York cleaning instead of bedding his boyfriend, he could afford to splurge.

“Oh, right, I forgot you can do that,” Kurt muttered, tugging him up by his curls to capture his lips again. “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Blaine agreed, grinning as Kurt pulled him through the door, both giggling as they tripped over their feet. Drinks had flowed with fervour after Blaine’s performance––the song that subsequently lead to them finally saying the dreaded “I love yous” that both had been avoiding for so long. The rest of the night was an alcoholic haze.

Now that the ‘L’ word was out in the open, Blaine felt silly for holding back so long. How could he doubt that Kurt loved him in return, when he had spent all night looking at Blaine like he had hung the moon?

Blaine would have hung the moon. He would have done anything for Kurt.

That night, Blaine finally understood what it really meant to _make love_ . He and Kurt had been intimate for months now, but coming undone under each other’s fingertips, whispering _I love you_ against each other’s skin, gripping one another like the world was ending–– _that_ was what it really meant to make love to someone. To be completely unafraid and willing to give yourself to that one person, and knowing they would do the same for you.

When Blaine thought of Forever, with a capital ‘F’, he saw Kurt.

Kurt’s nose nudged his as they lay facing one another on the pillows of Blaine’s bed. In January, they’d lain the same way, in a hotel room in Los Angeles, post-Grammys. That seemed like a lifetime away, now that Kurt was his in every single way. Back then, everything had been so new. Would the way Blaine felt now ever get old?

He didn’t think so.

It must’ve been early in the morning now. The party had ended late, and they had spent a long while appreciating one another between the thin sheets of Blaine’s bed. They were more or less sober, bones weighted with exhaustion. Blaine figured the sun would be rising in a couple of hours, but he couldn’t find the energy to check the time.

“You’re going to be dead tomorrow,” Kurt whispered, smiling against his lips when Blaine kissed him lazily.

“Today,” Blaine corrected, hooking his ankle around Kurt’s under the covers. He wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible. “I’ll sleep on the bus. I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

“Where’s your first stop?”

Blaine groaned, dropping his head against the pillow. He really didn’t want to talk about the tour, not when Kurt was right here and wouldn’t be with him again for weeks. “Do we have to talk about it?” he asked.

“We’re going to be talking about it for the next eight months,” Kurt said, brushing his fingers over Blaine’s jaw, where his stubble was starting to grow in.

“Boston is first,” Blaine sighed. “So about four hours away.”

“That’s not too far.”

Blaine hummed, his eyes slipping shut as Kurt’s hand trailed down from his jaw to his neck, brushing over his collarbone. “Then we’ll go up to Maine… Montreal, then Toronto…”

“Ooh, Canada. Exotic.”

Blaine laughed. “Yes, very exotic.”

“Where next?”

“We’ll drive down to Detroit. Chicago… and then Columbus.” He smiled, opening his eyes. “And you’ll meet me there, right?”

“Of course.” Kurt punctuated the promise with a kiss. “It’ll be nice to go back, I think. I’ll get to see my dad again, and Carole.”

Blaine tried to forget that once the Columbus show was over, it would likely be months before he saw Kurt again. He’d be all over the country before he returned to New York. The New York City show would be the last on the US leg, since he planned to stay home for a couple of weeks before leaving for the UK. That meant, at the very least, he’d get to spend Christmas and New Year’s with Kurt for their one year anniversary.

And then there would be an ocean between them.

“I love you,” he murmured, just because he could, and because he needed Kurt to remember it while he was away.

“I love you, too.”

Blaine’s heart swelled; they might have said it a dozen times over the past few hours, but it still warmed him from his toes to his lips, which were now on Kurt again as his hand snaked around his neck to pull him closer.

The kissed lasted for so long that the sun began to rise over New York, shafts of light coming through the slats in the blinds. Blaine, determined to memorize every inch of his boyfriend, tiredly ran his hands over every dip and curve. He kissed every one of Kurt’s freckles. He committed every sigh and breathy moan to memory.

Eventually, their time ran out. Blaine’s phone began to buzz on the nightstand, and Kurt was practically asleep underneath him, anyway. Pressing one last kiss to the dip of his collarbone, Blaine rolled over and picked up his phone. There were a few messages from various people on the tour crew, as well as Jeff, letting him know that a car would be there to pick him up at the apartment in an hour and a half.

He set down the phone again, but remained at the edge of the bed for a moment. There was one last thing to do before he had to get ready.

Sliding open the drawer of the bedside table, Blaine plucked the silver key he’d put there a week ago. He had a copy made when he realized, unfairly, that he had the code to Kurt’s apartment, but that Kurt didn’t have a key to his. He’d already had a word with the building manager, letting them know that Kurt was allowed to come and go as he liked while Blaine was gone.

All that was left was to tell Kurt.

Hiding the key in his fist, he rolled back over, only to see that Kurt was fast asleep.

Blaine smiled, watching him for a moment. Then his phone buzzed again, and he knew he had to move quickly.

“Hey,” he whispered, rousing Kurt slowly, rubbing his shoulder.

Kurt blinked awake, and made an adorable noise of contempt. “How long was I asleep?”

“About a minute.”

“I hate you.”

Blaine laughed softly. “I have to start getting ready,” he said, tracing circles on Kurt’s chest with his fingers.

Kurt sighed, his eyes slipped closed. “I guess that means I have to go, too, huh?”

Blaine hummed. “Not necessarily.”

Kurt opened one eye curiously.

“I made you this.” He opened his fist, showing Kurt the key. Kurt was awake now, blinking at it in surprise, before gingerly plucking the key from Blaine’s palm. “I figure it wasn’t fair that I could get into your place, but that you couldn’t get into mine. Besides, you have a drawer here, so just in case you need something, you won’t have to track down Sam or something to get it back.”

A tired smile spread on Kurt’s face. “Thank you,” he said. He balled the key in his fist and clutched it to his chest, then snuggled deeper under the covers. “Now I can sleep and still lock the door behind me when I leave.”

That made Blaine laugh. He pressed a kiss to Kurt’s cheek and slid out of bed. He let Kurt sleep as he showered, dressed in comfortable clothes to sleep in during the bus ride, and shot a few texts and emails off. There were a few thank-yous from party guests, and an apology from Sam for breaking a vase. He got Jeff to hire someone to clean, but made sure to have him book it in the afternoon so they wouldn’t disturb Kurt.

Hopefully, Kurt would sleep through the morning. Blaine didn’t have the heart to wake him, even when he got the call that the car was waiting downstairs.

He scrawled a quick note and placed it on his pillow, kissing Kurt’s forehead one last time before grabbing the bags he’d packed the night before and slipping out the door.

 

* * *

 

> _My dearest Kurt,_
> 
> _I love you. I love you. I love you. It feels good to finally tell you._
> 
> _These next few weeks will be hard. Just remember that no matter how far away we are, the miles don’t matter, because my heart will be with you._
> 
> _I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but you deserved to rest. You look really peaceful (and beautiful) when you sleep. I hope you can forgive me for not saying a proper goodbye, but secretly I’m grateful, because honestly? I never want to say goodbye to you. Not now, not ever._
> 
> _I’ll talk to you soon. Here’s to never saying goodbye._
> 
> _Sincerely yours,_ _  
> _ _Blaine. xoxo_
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title courtesy of “You And I Tonight” by Faber Drive.
> 
> I’ve also made a cute little Pinterest board for this fic. You can find it [here](https://pin.it/bteysh7hrkpu6g) if you’re interested. 
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/) Feel free to send me any questions or comments there.


	25. Epilogue

****

 

Epilogue

**New Year’s Eve** **  
** **Times Square, NYC**

New York City was freezing.

It was unreasonably cold, even for New Year’s Eve, and Kurt wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned into an icicle at any given moment. After hours out in the cold, he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers or toes.

Maybe he and Blaine had been right to go to a party last year.

Except this year, Kurt had willingly put himself out in the cold. He had a good reason; Blaine had been asked to perform in Times Square for the New Year’s Eve special, which was _insane_. So naturally, Kurt had said he would be there.

The last seven months had been a whirlwind. With Blaine on tour, Kurt thought he would have plenty of empty hours to pine for his boyfriend. This hadn’t been the case.

Work blew through like a hurricane, and Kurt spent nearly every day at his studio, which then became an even bigger office space when the company––yes, Kurt Hummel was a _company_ now, not just a name––had grown too big to confine to the previous space and had to move buildings. His designs were in magazines and on billboards. He had investors. He had hired more employees, in numbers and in skill level. He was developing a fashion line, though he didn’t have the runway to show it off. Yet. All in good time.

Blaine dropped a new album while on tour, and his fame had grown exponentially. Every show had completely sold out, and he had even added a few extra shows because of the high demand. In a few days, he would be off to the UK for the final month of the tour, and then he would be back in New York.

Kurt’s world had shifted. But through it all, his love for Blaine hadn’t.

A microphone squealed, and Kurt leaned forward against the barricade, feeling the icy metal even through his gloves. He was directly in front of the stage, cordoned off in the VIP section so that he was separate from the screaming fans.

Ryan Seacrest’s voice rose above the crowd. “He’s had four number one hits in this past year alone, currently on a sold out international tour, and tonight he’s joining us for the first time in Times Square––New York, give it up for _Blaine Anderson!_ ”

The crowd went wild, and Kurt cupped his hands around his mouth to holler as loud as he could. Bright lights danced across the stage, and the intro for an upbeat pop song began. Spotlights fell on the band members. A thin layer of smoke rolled across the stage.

Just in time to start the first verse, the curtains at the back of the stage parted and Blaine strolled out, beaming as he waved to the crowd. The roar of applause and cheers rose sharply at his appearance, and Kurt’s face broke into a toothy smile, his chest swelling with pride.

He’d seen Blaine perform in Columbus, and again in New York just before Christmas. It was incredible to see him on stage, the way he lit up as he sang, his energy as he moved across the space. He connected with his audience in a way that Kurt found enrapturing, so that even though he had watched the same set twice, he’d enjoyed both times in different ways.

Now, Blaine paused between verses, his face split into a wide smile as he looked out into the audience. “Hello, Times Square!” he yelled. “Are you ready to end the year with a bang?”

The crowd roared.

Blaine launched into the rest of the song, his energy palpable even from a distance. Kurt recognized that this was his element, where he always wanted to be. Blaine was a born performer.

As the song came to a close, the audience gave one last cheer. Kurt assumed that would be the end of Blaine’s performance, so he was surprised when his boyfriend walked to the edge of the stage and raised his arms in euphoria.

He brought the microphone to his lips. “New York—before I go, I have one more thing to say. A year ago, I spent my New Year’s Eve at a party with the love of my life. Tonight is our one year anniversary. Kurt, I love you, and happy new year, baby.”

Kurt’s face was already pink from the cold, but he flushed with warmth at Blaine’s words. “I love you!” he screamed, even though he knew it would be lost to the noise.

It was nearing midnight, and now that Blaine was done his number, Kurt was desperate to see him. How could he end the year without Blaine by his side? But he knew it would be impossible to find him, and even less likely that he’d be allowed in restricted areas to find him, anyway—

Arms circled around his waist, bringing a halo of warmth as someone pressed against his back. “Hi, beautiful,” Blaine’s voice murmured in his ear, barely audible.

Kurt turned around in Blaine’s arms, coming face to face with him. “Happy anniversary!” he said, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s lips, suddenly not feeling very cold at all.

“Happy anniversary, Kurt.”

“You were amazing,” Kurt breathed. “I love watching you sing, you know. It’s like magic.”

Blaine laughed, and buried his face in Kurt’s neck, effectively warming his face on the thick scarf Kurt wore. “It’s freezing out here,” he said.

“I know, Blaine. I’ve been here for hours.”

Blaine lifted his head. “Oh god, I’m sorry, we should get inside! Did you want to go to Rachel’s party? It’s still going, right?”

“It is... but we can stay here, if you want?” Kurt said. “I want to see the ball drop, and if we leave now, we might miss the countdown. It’s about time we had a real New York City New Year’s.”

“Okay.” Blaine kissed him again. “Whatever you want.”

Blaine had been very touchy since he’d returned to New York, and Kurt had no complaints. Even though Kurt had kept busy during their time apart, he’d missed having his boyfriend around. No amount of texts, calls, and Skype sessions could replace the ache in his chest of not being able to reach out and touch him. More than once over the past seven months he had half a mind to drop everything and fly to wherever Blaine was that day.

A camera flashed somewhere off to the side. Kurt sighed through his nose. He hadn’t quite gotten used to that yet. Paparazzi took notice of him when he was on his own now, and he knew it would only get worse the more successful the brand became. It didn’t bother him when he was alone––he was pretty good at ignoring it now––but having people intrude on his and Blaine’s intimate moments hadn’t gotten any less annoying.

He grabbed Blaine’s hands and angled them away from the camera. They chatted idly as the night continued, the air getting more brisk with the coming of midnight. Blaine did most of the talking, speaking animatedly about what it was like to perform in Times Square.

“And the _people_ , Kurt,” he was saying, squeezing Kurt’s hand tightly through his gloves. “It’s just faces, as far as the eye can see! It was insane, and I… I don’t know, I really feel like I’ve _made it_ , you know?”

Kurt smiled, but cocked his head slightly, confused. “You only feel like you’ve just made it now?” he asked.

Blaine’s smile faltered. “I… well, yeah. I got to perform in Times Square. I can’t believe so many people came out just to see it.”

“Your music plays on the radio all the time,” Kurt pointed out, and began ticking off a list on his fingers. “You’re currently on a sold out international tour. You’ve been invited to every major music awards show in the past two years, with multiple nominations at each one. You’ve done late night talk shows like Ellen and Jimmy Fallon. _Ellen_ , Blaine! But Times Square is where you feel like you’ve made it?”

Kurt couldn’t tell if Blaine was blushing, or if he was just red-faced from the cold. “Well, when you put it like that…” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life.”

Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him close as he pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder, and the two of them stayed wrapped in their embrace for a long time, letting the party rage around them. It might not have been the most traditional of anniversaries, but Kurt didn’t really care. As long as he was with Blaine, he was happy.

The noise level began to rise as a loud ticking took over the square. Blaine pointed up to the screen that displayed the seconds counting down from sixty. Above, the ball began to drop, glowing against the black sky. “It’s almost time,” he said.

“Exactly a year ago, we made it official,” Kurt said, rocking on his feet excitedly, a rush of emotion filling him as he looked at Blaine. Blaine’s gaze swept from the sky to Kurt’s face, his eyes flashing different colours as they reflected the screens on the buildings surrounding them.

_10, 9, 8, 7..._

“I love you,” Blaine said, circling his arms around Kurt’s neck.

_6, 5, 4..._

“I love you, too.”

_3, 2, 1…_

Kurt let out a yelp as he was suddenly swept backwards, Blaine dipping him so he was lying parallel to the ground in Blaine’s arms. Just like he’d done to Blaine a year ago on that balcony.

_“Happy New Year!”_

Blaine grinned above him. “Happy New Year,” he murmured, and then leaned in, a thunderous cacophony of cheers erupting around them to signal in the new year.

Kurt kissed him deeply, bracketing yet another year with the taste of Blaine on his lips. Cameras flashed, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a large film camera on them, the cinematographer wearing a badge representing a news station.

Kurt laughed as Blaine pulled him back upright. _Of course._ In Lima, his dad was probably watching the Times Square coverage with Carole. He’d definitely be getting teased for kissing on national television for a while yet.

Maybe it should have worried him that so much of their relationship was documented. If they ever broke up, it would be worse than the usual heartbreak, because the entire world was in on their relationship.

He still had a lot to learn. He still had to get used to the cameras, and the gossip, the fans. Maybe it should have bothered him that a lot of his success was due to Blaine, but really, when it came down to it, Kurt was proud of what he had accomplished over the past year. Blaine had helped some by bringing awareness to his designs, but he had done all the uphill lifting to get the work done.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Blaine said, just as snow began to drift slowly down onto the crowd.

“I can,” Kurt said. “It’s been a good one. I can’t wait for another.”

When Blaine looked at him then, shaking his head slightly as he cupped Kurt’s jaw in his hand, there was something like awe in his eyes. “What?” Kurt said.

“Nothing,” Blaine said. “Just can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really.” His expression turned serious. “You know when I said I felt like I’d made it?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a part of that,” Blaine said. “I don’t know where I’d be if we hadn’t met, but… even if I was in exactly the same place, I don’t know if I’d feel as good as I do now. I have the music, the tour...”

“The fame, the fortune,” Kurt teased.

“Yeah, yeah. But I also have you. And that’s what really makes me feel like I’ve made it.”

Kurt bit his lip, simultaneously wanting to kiss Blaine and tease him for being so cheesy. He opted to do both, muttering a quick, “You’re such a dork,” and then leaning in to steal his lips for the umpteenth time.

Blaine hummed against his lips, remembering a night a year ago when Kurt said the same words to him, laughing as he sang along to _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_ , a makeshift picnic of Chinese food spread out on the blanket beneath them.

And he replied, just as he had a year ago…

“Oh, Kurt. You haven’t seen the half of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ends our journey. 
> 
> As I’ve mentioned before, there will be a sequel, which I have started to plan, but I think I’m going to take a break from this ‘verse for a while just to refresh my brain. I have some one-shots I want to write and an original novel that I’ve been procrastinating, but I promise that eventually, I’ll have a sequel for you! (Maybe even some one-shots for this ‘verse as well.)
> 
> Don’t forget to subscribe to the series so you don’t miss it when I do post again. And of course, don’t be a stranger and come say hi to me on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks again for the amazing support you’ve all shown for this fic. I can hardly believe that the Klaine fandom is going so strong after this goofy show ended so many years ago. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> My tumblr is [dukecabooms.](http://dukecabooms.tumblr.com/)  
> I’ve also made a cute little Pinterest board for this fic. You can find it [here](https://pin.it/bteysh7hrkpu6g) if you’re interested.  
> The official chapter playlist for this fic is [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/stonecas/playlist/6UZoNZrn8DZ76EZaHbbRWP?si=Ux8MylztQaKeFw9JnWZkjQ)


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